Dulce et Decorum Est
by Seal Lullaby
Summary: The Second Wizarding War has just begun, and this time, it has some new players. Finding himself shoved into the center of the deadly conflict, Draco Malfoy must do some serious soul-searching if he's expected to work with Harry Potter, save the world, and come out of this war alive. HPDM, bonding, others cannon. AU. Rated T-M
1. A Dream Within A Dream

**_Summery: _**In the summer of his sixth year, Draco Malfoy defected from the Dark side. At the same time, Voldemort found a little black book that would throw the entire wizarding world into chaos. Now, Draco must do some serious soul-searching if he's expected to work with Harry Potter, save the world, and come out of the Second Wizarding War alive. _  
_

**_A/N:_**_ This is my first attempt at anything this big and in the Harry Potter universe. I've never had the guts to start a project like this because many of my stories tend to wander into oblivion. Where do they end up? I have no clue. Anyway, I'm determined to go somewhere with this. My muse may have finally arrived. Woot! I would love for you all to give me constructive criticism. I'm doing this to strengthen my writing. If something in my alternative universe seems off, then tell me and I'll try to fix it. Bare with me on the inevitable spelling/grammar mistakes. I often write late at night and can only reread the chapters so much before wanting to delete everything._

_The only three characters that I've truly messed with are Draco, Harry, and Voldemort. Draco and Harry _have_ to change in order to even stand each other's company, let alone start a romantic relationship that isn't masochistic. Voldemort... well, he's going to have to earn the title of the most dreaded Dark Lord in recorded history ;) _

_**Warnings: **This is a Harry/Draco story, meaning that there will be a relationship between two boys. If that offends you, then this is not your cup of tea. Try another tea shop. There will be no detailed description of sexual situations, though they may be implied. Sorry to all those who enjoy lemons, but I just can't write them with a straight face. But there will be violence and gore. I'm vacillating between making this a creature fic or not. Hmm... Anyways, if it is, there will be no forced sex between the couple._

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. That right belongs to the wonderful and talented J.K. Rowling. Without her, I wouldn't be the avid reader that I am._

_**Pairings**_: _Harry/Draco (slow boiling), Hermione/Ron (developing), Neville/Luna (perhaps), and others are yet to be determined._

**Dulce et Decorum Est**

_by Seal Lullaby_

**Chapter One: A Dream Within A Dream**_  
_

That _man_ was absolutely insane. Completely mental. And Draco was an even bigger loon for even having thought that the… _thing_ was worthy of following.

Draco Malfoy stood inside an empty compartment, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. His hands were shaking a bit, but he hardly had the patience to feel embarrassed about it. His thoughts were in disarray as he relived the last few weeks of the summer. Almost automatically, his stomach churned, and he nearly lost what little breakfast he'd managed to consume. He had drawn the shades and had sealed the compartment door shut, even if he would get detention for that if caught. There was just no way he could handle company. Not at the moment.

Draco closed his eyes and visions haunted his thoughts. Cold bodies laid on the floor. Their eyes stared vacantly into the distance. One woman had an engagement ring around her left finger. She had been trying to protect a muggle child that couldn't have been older than five. Both had died gruesome deaths.

_Too much… Too much to handle._ Draco had thrown up, right then and there. His mother hadn't had a single word of comfort for him.

The Dark Lord had given Draco and impossible task just to watch him fail, that sadistic bastard, and he held Draco's family hostage to ensure that Draco behaved. What could he possibly do now? His options were to follow through with the Dark Lord's plan, which just _might_ save his family but surely be the death of him, or he could go to Dumbledore. He wasn't entirely sure that the elderly man would even help him. What if he threw Draco to the Aurors? After all, Draco was trying to murder the man, and he had that vile tattoo on his arm. One look at that, and he'd be prosecuted on the spot.

Draco felt tears swim in his eyes for the first time since the Dark Mark had been inscribed into his arm. He blinked them away angrily, sneering at himself in the mirror. He was pathetic, feeling sorry for himself. Malfoys did not cry, and they most certainly did not grovel, but his father had no problem practically throwing himself at the Dark Lord's feet. It disgusted him, but Draco knew that his father didn't have much of a choice. He had been in too deep, and now Lucius was stuck in Azkaban because he'd been caught doing You-Know-Who's bidding. The Dark Lord was a lot of things, but loyal wasn't one of them.

That didn't stop Draco's resentment towards the Malfoy patriarch. _He should have been stronger. He should have protected me!_ _He should have protected Mother._ But he didn't, and Draco was left to deal with the consequences.

There was a knock at his door. Draco stayed seated.

_Knock!_

Draco needed to talk to Dumbledore. He needed to protect his mother.

_Knock!_

He would never be able to take a human life so coldly, cruelly. _So cold. So much gore._

BANGBANGBANG!

"Draco Malfoy, I know you're in there! Open up!" Pansy's screeched. "We checked every other compartment in this place. You've been cornered."

Draco sighed. Sometimes, Pansy honestly got on his nerve. If she wasn't such a bloody good friend, he would have poisoned her years ago. "Alright, Pans. Calm down."

"Ha! I told you guys that he was in here."

Draco huffed but jerked his wand around until he heard a tiny click. The compartment door slid open, revealing an irate Pansy and two confused masses of muscle, also known as Crabbes and Goyle. Draco eyed the latter of the pair with trepidation and mistrust but quickly covered the look with one of indifference. The pair had come over during the summer. One day, during a particularly nasty torture session going on in the dungeon, the trio had sat in the kitchen and tried to eat- or rather, Draco and Crabbes had tried to eat amidst the screaming and begging. Goyle seemed to have no trouble stomaching his food. He'd even wished that he could have joined in on the session.

"Couldn't you three have left me alone for a few minutes?" He demanded harshly. "I was trying to come up with a plan."

"Well, maybe if you told us…" Pansy wheedled.

Draco regarded her coolly. "I don't think so."

She sat back and folded her arms petulantly. "I don't understand why you can't just tell us, Draco."

"The Dark Lord wishes for the mission to remain a complete secret," Draco said smoothly. It was partially true. However, he also didn't trust Pansy not to start boasting. If he wanted to live, he should remain quiet.

The door slid open again, this time revealing Blaise Zabini. Draco ground his teeth together when the darker teenager shot him a contemptuous smirk. He had never liked Zabini, but decorum prevented him from strangling the bastard. "Zabini." Draco nodded curtly.

"Malfoy," Zabini said, equally as coolly. "I hear that you've been inducted into a rather elite little group."

"Maybe you shouldn't repeat such rumors when others can hear it," Draco snapped. "Close the door if you insist on staying."

A brief frown marred Zabini's admittedly attractive face. Draco was well aware of the fact that Zabini was one of the most sought after boys in the entire school, but Draco also knew that he was much more handsome than the other Slytherin. That was no boast.

He felt viciously satisfied when Zabini grudgingly turned to close the door. Just as it slid shut, it seemed to catch on something. Zabini pushed harder and managed to slam it closed. "Must have been the carpet," Zabini muttered. He took a seat across from Pansy and Draco.

Draco continued to stare at the spot by the door. He could have sworn he heard something…

"So, Malfoy, will you tell us about your glamorous mission or are we not important enough to be informed," Zabini said, pulling Draco back to the real world.

"If it's information you're snooping around for, maybe you should ask him yourself." Everybody in the compartment knew who _he_ was.

Pansy pursed her lips. "He won't tell us anything." She'd always been friendly with Zabini. Draco had a feeling that the two of them had a short fling last summer, but he had a feeling Pansy would not appreciate being asked about such matters. This was just another reason why he couldn't trust her, especially after what he was planning to do.

"Too bad. I was looking forward to hearing it."

Draco ignored the two and stared at the compartment's ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his suitcase move from its perch on the luggage rack. His eyes narrowed. Somebody was in here, and he had an inking as to who would dare sneak into a compartment containing a group of Slytherin.

He turned his attention back to Pansy, who was tugging on his sleeve. "Can I at least see it?" she asked.

"Not right now," said Draco, looking out the window.

"Draco, are you feeling well?" Pansy asked tentatively.

He turned to her with a blank expression. "Yes. I'm just… I'm a bit tired."

"Do you want some sweets? I can fetch the trolley for you."

Draco felt a surge of sadness when he noticed Pansy's honest concern. He didn't feel the least bit guilty for withholding information from her, but he felt sad that he _had_ to in the first place. She would have made such a good friend. Her heart was in the right place, but he couldn't ask her to side against her own family in the war. Before the summer, Draco would happily have taken advantage of her obvious infatuation with him. Now, he just felt… gloomy. Alone.

"I assure you, Pans. I'm fine."

They sat in a tense silence before Pansy couldn't take it anymore. "Blaise, how was the meeting?"

Blaise snorted. "Useless. Slughorn even invited that Weasley chit. Potter was there as well." At this, he shot a smirk at Draco.

The blond merely rolled his eyes, but he silently seethed. Who in their right mind would invite Potter to a luncheon and reject him? The new professor, Slughorn, was obviously not right in the head. He must have seriously let himself go since his father last saw him. Draco lifted his chin up and stared down Zabini. "I have better things to do than go chasing after shirt-tails."

The conversation collapsed yet again. This time, nobody tried to revive it. Draco squirmed occasionally as his tender back ached spasmodically. His back had been hurting for a few days now after a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse.

Everybody sat stiffly in their seats until the train came to a halt. Having already dressed in their robes before entering the train, they merely had to wait for the all clear before leaving. The edge of Draco's trunk seemed to hit something while he pulled it out of the luggage rack. That something released a very human yelp.

Draco smirked.

He paused on the threshold of the compartment. He waved Pansy on, waited until she was out of sight, and shut the door. Turning with lightning speed, he aimed his wand at the space by his trunk and said, "_Petrificus Totalus."_

There was a yelp, a rustle of robes, and a thump. Then, silence. Draco leaned down and grabbed on what seemed like air, except his hand touched smooth silk. He pulled it back, revealing a rigid, glaring Harry Potter. "What a surprise," Draco drawled. "I can't, for the life of me, understand how you managed to survive for all these years when you can't even sneak properly to save your life."

He took in Potter's helpless position with a fair bit of pleasure. Draco wanted to stomp on Potter's nose to get back at the Gryffindor for all the years of hell he'd put Draco through and all of the embarrassment he experienced at the hands of Potter and his little cronies.

Draco had learned the meaning of hate over the summer. He'd seen what hate does to a person, what it twists one into. The Dark Lord had become a hateful, perverse creature, a slave to the past. Draco didn't want that. He couldn't bear the thought of becoming like _him_, and he rather liked his nose to remain on his face.

Thus, Draco figured out one summer afternoon that he did not hate Harry Potter. His animosity towards Potter couldn't even come close to his abhorrence for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Sure, he wanted Potter to fail in every endeavor, but he didn't want to _kill_ the boy.

Draco knelt next to Potter. The raven-haired youth stared defiantly up at him. The boy's hair was still as messy as ever, though he seemed to have experienced a growth spurt, although he wasn't as tall as Draco. "You're not worth my time, Potter." Draco spent a long moment vacillating between releasing Harry and leaving him there. As a safety measure, Draco took Potter's wand from his grasp.

The second Draco's hand wrapped around the foreign wand, a flood of warm washed over his body. Just as quickly as it appeared, it left him. Draco blinked a few times in confusion before turning his attention back to the matter at hand. He'd think about that strange occurrence later on.

Against his better judgment, Draco spoke the counter-spell to the Body-Bind Curse. Potter immediately sprang up. Draco lifted up a hand and backed away before the wild child could attack him. "Uh, uh, uh, Potter. I wouldn't do that if I were you. I have the wands."

Potter scowled darkly at him. "I always knew you were nothing more than a Death Eater in training, but now I guess you're not training any longer. Tell me, Malfoy did you have fun torturing muggles over the summer?" He sounded so high-and-might, so hateful, that Draco forcefully bit at the inside of his lip to prevent himself from retaliating.

How dare this… this _child_ make assumptions about him. Draco had seen things that Potter couldn't imagine in his wildest dream. He didn't have the pleasure of viewing life through rose-colored glasses like Potter and his lackeys. How nice it must be to believe that everything was black and white.

"Shut up, Potter. You have no idea what you're talking about." Draco's voice shook with barely suppressed fury. Draco took a deep breath and thought of the exercises he'd learn during Occlumency practice. _Breathe. Clear your mind. Relax…_

"Oh, really? I don't? Then let me see your left arm." Potter stared at him intensely, waiting for Draco to slip up.

"I haven't done anything to you, Potter," Draco hissed. "You came snooping into my compartment! You're lucky I didn't oust you when the others were with me. They wouldn't have been so lenient with Gryffinor scum."

"Daddy must be so proud of you. Oh, wait. You're father's in jail, isn't he, Malfoy? I wonder how he's holding up in Azkaban."

"At least my father is still alive. I hear that your flee-bitten godfather wasn't so lucky."

Potter lunged at Draco, who shrunk back in surprise. Potter's fist collided with Draco's cheek, sending the Slytherin flying against the sliding door. He swore he saw stars when his head collided with the door. His cheek stung fiercely. Draco immediately retaliated with a swipe at the brunette's face. He managed to snag Potter in the nose. He heard a satisfying crunch, and blood began gushing out of the wound.

Before the two could really get started, the door slid open, revealing a strange young woman whom Draco had never seen before. Her mousy brown hair was all over the place, and she didn't seem to be in very good health. She stared between the two in shock. Then her eyes turned to Draco and they hardened. "Mr. Malfoy, I will be speaking with the Headmaster about this."

Draco felt the blood in his face drain away. The rest of his body temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees. "No! I didn't- this wasn't my fault." Not Dumbledore. Draco would rather spend a month in the company of Filch! "Don't tell him… Please."

The woman turned to Potter for confirmation. Draco's heart sank in despair. Potter would rather die than defend Draco. "It was me, Tonks. I punched him first." Draco turned so swiftly that he almost lost his balance. Potter, who kept his gazed fixed on this Tonks character, staunchly ignored the blond's incredulous stare.

She seemed equally as surprised as Draco. "Well, in that case. Don't let it happen again, Harry."

Draco felt a surge of righteous anger. If Draco had committed the misdemeanor, he was treated like a felon, but if Potter was in the wrong, all he got was a swift slap to the wrist. That was completely unfair!

It was always unfair. Ever since he entered Slytherin, most other students treated him like a plague. Granted, that he hadn't exactly been the nicest person in the world, but he still shouldn't have been treated so cruelly. He was eleven! At the time, he'd still thought kissing resulted in babies!

"Come with me, both of you," Tonks said. Potter immediately walked after her, covering his bleeding nose with his sleeve. Draco touched his stinging cheek and winced. This time, it really wasn't his fault. "We're going to have to jump off the train before it gains any more speed."

"Wha-" Potter began, but then the train started moving.

"We're going to have to jump off a moving train?" Draco asked disbelievingly.

Tonks regarded him with scorn. Draco's cheeks colored, but he felt a surge of recognition. He could have sworn he'd seen her somewhere. "Yes. It's not moving that fast."

She slid open a glass door leading off of the Hogwarts Express. The train was indeed moving at a sluggish pace, but it was gaining speed by the second. She leapt off, landing clumsily on her feet. Potter followed. Draco tensed his shoulders and quickly jumped out before the train could go any faster.

Tonks turned to Harry and sighed. "You always get yourself into these scraps, Harry." She seemed rather unhappy. _Great. Another love-struck Potter fan._ She stuck her wand in Potter's face and went about mending the broken nose. Then, she conjured up a Patronus and sent it bolting towards the castle.

Draco pressed his own wand lightly against his cheek. "_Episkey._" The skin around his wound burned briefly before healing itself. Draco sighed with relief. He never could handle pain.

"I'll be having my wand back now, Malfoy," Potter said coldly. Draco just shoved it into Potter's waiting hands. He couldn't even stand touching it any longer. It just felt too weird.

"How did you, er, find us?" Potter asked when the trio began walking. Draco kept a few feet behind the woman and Potter. He glanced at the starry sky and breathed in the cool September air. He had lost his temper on the train, and even though it was entirely Harry Bleeding Potter's fault, Draco realized that it couldn't happen again. The stupid Boy-Who-Lived had an annoying habit of making Draco lose control. That would soon change.

The young woman said, "I didn't see you leave the train so I checked it just in case. Good thing, too… It looked like the two of you were about to rip each other to shreds." She glanced at Draco before looking away. This woman was awfully familiar… Where had he seen her before?

Tonks... Where had he heard that name before? Tonks…Ted Tonks. Nymphadora Tonks! "You're a Black!" Draco said rather triumphantly. "You're mother is my aunt."

Tonks turned her head to stare at him in surprise. "You know me?"

"Yes, my mother… spoke of your family in the past," Draco said. _She doesn't really like you. But then again, your mother did marry a muggle._ He saw her expression shift from confused and startled to suspicious and angry.

"I'm sure she had lovely things to say about my mother," Tonks said darkly. "I'm surprised she can even remember who we are."

Draco pursed his lips. He didn't like her tone. "Watch what you say about my mother." He knew he was in no position to make threats, but nobody would get away with speaking ill of his mother.

"Because I'm sure Narcissa just praised our names to Merlin," Tonks said harshly.

The silence that followed was practically sub-zero. Not even Potter put his two cents in, realizing that this was strictly a family issue.

They reached the towering wrought iron gate of Hogwarts soon. Draco wrapped his cloak tightly around him to ward off the chilly night air. He felt exhausted. Nightmares had been plaguing his mind for weeks. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep since his birthday.

When Severus met Draco and Harry in front of the gate, Draco almost cried out in joy. He was less then pleased, however, when the Slytherin Head of House docked points from both Draco and Potter for being late for the Feast. Draco tried to wheedle his way out of even attending the Start of Term Feast, but Severus would not hear of it.

He sat near the head of the Slytherin table, a new position that he mentally boasted over. Most of the Slytherins had heard about Draco's new position. The few boys in front of him had willingly taken their Marks and were much older and thus closest to the front of the table. Draco watched the newly appointed Death Eaters chat and laugh with revulsion. How many were forced to take the Marks? How many had willingly entered into that contract, knowing that they'd have to kill innocent people for mere sport?

He felt a pair of eyes on him and glanced across the Great Hall. Over the heads of a sea of students, he met emerald eyes. Potter's face was still covered with blood from their earlier encounter. Draco smirked at his handiwork. Weasley decided to take it upon himself to defend Potter's honor and sent Draco a rude hand gesture. _Scumsucking plebian. _

Pansy sat across from him. A perk, she called it, of being Draco's friend. "What did you do to him?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the Golden Trio.

Draco tore his away from Potter and said, "Nothing he didn't deserve." He went back to his meal, but not before shooting a smug smirk in Blaise's direction, who sat quite a few students away from him. The darker boy glowered.

Pansy finally gave up on trying to pry a conversation out of Draco and began flirting with the older Slytherin beside her. Draco went over various scenarios in his head concerning the conversation he'd have with Dumbledore. Only one ended well. The others ended with him being thrown out of the window, attacked by Aurors, or fed to Hagrid's ferocious creatures. By the end of the meal, he had worked himself into a panic. He tried to think of every possible method of escaping the Dark Lord without going to Dumbledore, but they all ended with him dying next to his mother.

"… to the dormitories, if you will. To all of you, good night and sweet dreams," Dumbledore said, lifting his arms in the air. Draco caught sight of Dumbledore's right hand and grimaced. The hand was blackened and withered and looked more like a burnt twig than a hand. What had happened to it?

Draco stood with the rest of the students. He waded through all of the students and swerved towards the opposite direction of the dungeon. "Draco, where are you going?" Pansy demanded, stopping him in the middle of the hallway.

"I have some… things to do," Draco said before shooing her, Crabbes, and Goyle. He hurried to Dumbledore's office. Draco kept his mind firmly away from any doubts, otherwise he would chicken out. He stopped in front of a pair of large, glaring gargoyles and waited. Dumbledore was probably just making his way out of the Great-

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you?" Draco jumped and whirled around. Dumbledore stood before him. His silvery grey beard gleamed in the hallway light. Draco often wondered just how long the man had let it grow out. It was both disturbing and impressive.

Draco took a deep breath. "I need to speak with you, Headmaster. It's urgent." Dumbledore nodded slowly and Draco felt as if the Headmaster knew exactly why he was there. It wouldn't surprise him. The old man seemed to know everything.

The Headmaster spoke, "Bertie Bott's." The gargoyles jumped aside, revealing a winding staircase. The odd pair walked onto the stairs, which slowly ascended towards a dark oak door. Dumbledore pushed it open and breezed in. Draco stared at after him hesitantly. Yes, there was still time to turn back, but to turn back would mean relinquishing his peace of mind, which would surely kill him. Mustering up the control he'd experienced when he was faced with the Dark Lord's cold red eyes, Draco moved after the older man.

The man's office was as chaotic as Draco imagined it to be. Dozens upon dozens of portraits hung on the wall. Many were asleep, some were flitting between portraits to talk to other occupants, and others just stared at the nervous Slytherin. Various gadgets and knickknacks littered the man's desk, some whirring and emitting white sparks. Dumbledore's phoenix sat perched near the man's desk. It was the creature's eyes that made Draco most anxious, though he couldn't understand why.

Dumbledore took a seat behind his desk and motioned for Draco to slide into one of the chairs across from him. "Now, what may I ask is the reason for this visit?"

Draco's toes curled in his shoes. "I request asylum from the Dark Lord," he said, suppressing a wince at the sheer bluntness of the comment. There was no use hedging it, though. He will have to lay out all his cards and hope for mercy from a man he's scorned for years.

That thought terrified the teenager more than the Dark Lord at the moment.

Dumbledore tilted his head. "All of my students are ensured asylum, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco gritted his teeth. "Yes, but I'm a special case." He rolled up the sleeve of his left hand, revealing the hideous mark defacing his otherwise creamy smooth skin. "I do not want to follow the Dark Lord, nor had I wanted this mark." He shook his sleeve back down and watched the bearded man, waiting for his move.

Resting his elbows on his desk, Dumbledore entwined his fingers and regarded the boy. The blond tried desperately not to stare at the man's blackened, withered hand. Draco resisted the urge to fidget under the man's gaze, and he made sure that his shields properly covered his mind, but the man didn't seem to be attempting to break through to his thoughts. "Perhaps you should start from the beginning. What has Voldemort asked you to do?"

Draco started at the name. He closed his eyes and began his tale, starting with the moment that the Dark Lord asked for his presence at a Death Eater meeting. He spoke of the awful raids that he was forced to participate in and alluded to the torture but refused to say it outright. He mentioned his plans for sneaking Death Eaters into the school to kill Dumbledore. At this, Draco winced. The silence weighed heavily on his mind. Finally, Draco admitted, "I want asylum, but I'm concerned about my family."

"I can offer you safety, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, "but there is little that I can do for your mother. Unless she comes to me, my hands are tied."

Draco felt a lump form in his throat. He wouldn't have to follow the crazed Lord's plans. He could finally have peace of mind. It was be too good to be true if only he had his mother by his side. "What if I can convince her?" Draco said quickly.

"Then we'll have something else to discuss," Dumbledore replied. "In the meantime, I would like to ask you a few questions."

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. Of course the man would want information. He didn't have much to offer though, and he briefly wondered if that would affect Dumbledore's decisions. "I don't have much in the way of information. The Dark Lord did not trust me for anything important," he all but choked out.

"Oh, it's nothing of that sort. I was wondering if Voldemort-" Draco suppressed the wince this time. The man was adamant about saying the Dark Lord's name. Each reaction to it was just another sign of weakness. "-spent time abroad. Do you remember hearing anything about his travel plans?"

This struck the Slytherin as an incredibly odd question. Dumbledore wanted information about Voldemort's vacation plans? That he could do. After all, the man lived in Draco's home. "He did leave for extended periods of times. I think he even went to the America once or twice. Before I left, he was in Egypt. Bellatrix would be the only one accompanying him, and that made some of his other followers jealous enough to start babbling. He should be back by tomorrow." Draco picked his mind for any more information, but that was all he remembered.

"Interesting," Dumbledore mumbled to himself. He looked off into the distance. Draco grew impatient at the silence. Was the man going to help him or not? Dumbledore blinked, coming back to reality. He clapped his hands twice, and a tiny house-elf appeared next to his desk.

"Yes, Headmaster? What may Fanny do for Headmaster?" The house-elf squeaked.

"Fanny, please deliver a message to Severus," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Dumbledore would like for him to stop by for a few minutes."

"Yes, sir!" With a sharp pop, the house-elf disappeared.

Draco stared at the Headmaster, hoping that he'd receive some answers. The man merely pushed a tray of sweets over to Draco. "Would you care for a lemon drop? They are surprisingly delicious pieces of sweets." Draco took one, though he didn't eat it, something that Dumbledore noticed. His eyes twinkled. "Saving it for another time? You could certainly drop by any time and ask for more." He chuckled, and Draco felt a blush creep up his cheeks. He wanted to be in the man's good graces, but he simply refused to eat such a muggle treat.

They sat in silence for a long time until Draco broke it, staring at the phoenix. The creature, majestic and thrumming with energy, simply stared back at him. Its scarlet red feathers glowed in the dim light of the office. Dumbledore reached over and stroked the creature's head. "His name is Fawkes. He and I found each other a long time ago. The first and only familiar I've ever had."

Fawkes opened his mouth and began singing. The haunting song washed over Draco's ears and forced a shiver to crawl down his spine. He wasn't quite sure what he felt at the moment, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to bird to keep singing. A sense of guilt began gnawing away at Draco's mind, having no specific subject in mind. All of the ill things he did in the past, every hurtful comment he made, every stupid thing he did rushed back to his mind like a tsunami. He had been a bloody terrorist, and it wasn't a very pleasant thing to realize. Draco tried to quash the feeling as best as possible. He stared at the polished mahogany desk in front of him to avoid Dumbledore's penetrating stare.

This felt like a test.

The door opened just as Fawkes's mouth closed. Severus Snape stalked into the room. He stood before he Headmaster and regarded Draco curiously. "Yes, Headmaster? Why is it you called?" Draco was equally as curious. It was a well-known fact amongst the Death Eaters that Severus was one of the most trusted by Voldemort. He'd been the man's service for years. Draco's fear spiked, but before he could say anything, Dumbledore spoke.

"Severus, it seems as if another one of the Dark Lord's followers has decided to resign."

Draco's skin grew clammy under Severus's glare. He shrank into his seat. "Sir, can he be trusted?" Severus dark eyes bored into Draco. He felt his mind being roughly prodded. Despite his obvious fear, Draco was indignant over Snape's attempt to pierce his mind. He quickly erected the strongest mental barriers possible. The older man should have known better than to try to invade his head. He had, after all, taught Draco Occlumency himself. Severus's eyebrows lifted, and Draco could have sworn he saw a fleeting smile touch the man's lips.

"I believe so," the Headmaster said, a twinkle in his eyes. "Fawkes just attested to his loyalties."

Severus sank into a nearby chair. The mental jabs disappeared. "Very well," he sighed. He turned to Draco, who was by now sweating bullets. If this information went back to the Dark Lord, not only would _he_ be dead, but his mother and father would probably face a gruesome demise as well. Draco cursed his decision to ask for help. He should have kept his mouth shut. He should have been a good little Death Eater and obeyed his orders.

"Calm down, Draco," Severus snapped. He rubbed his temples. "Do you realize how much work this will take to pull off? We might have to fake your death and send you into hiding, if only to save your parents."

Draco was not expecting this, but he sat up a bit straighter. "How do I know that you're not still loyal to Voldemort?" he asked his godfather confidently, though confidence was the last thing that he was feeling. He was no Gryffindor.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Even if I was, there would be nothing that you could do about it now."

"Do not worry, Draco. I trust Professor Snape implicitly," Dumbledore said. That didn't make Draco feel any better.

"I made an Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa and Bellatrix," Severus muttered. "I told them that I'd help you complete the mission or finish it myself should you fail."

Draco's head jerked back. "What? Why would you do such a thing?" Dumbledore surely must know that it meant that Severus would end up killing him. Either this meant that Severus was completely loyal to Dumbledore, in which case Draco had nothing to worry about, or Severus was a truly cunning Slytherin whose whole plan was to make it seem like he had no choice but to kill Dumbledore, thus ensuring that he wouldn't be held completely responsible for his actions by the elderly man.

Draco's head throbbed.

"Rest assured, Mr. Malfoy, I knew all about it, including your mission," Dumbledore said. Draco came very close to gaping at the two of them. So Severus _was _loyal to Dumbledore, at least, for now, and apparently, Dumbledore was a Seer. "Although, I did not know about the Vanishing Cabinet. That is quite ingenious, my boy." Draco felt a momentary surge of pride. He had to agree with the Headmaster. The Cabinet was not easy to find in that pile of garbage, and fixing it hadn't been a walk in the park either.

"Back to the matter at hand, if you will," Severus said impatiently. "What shall we do with him, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "I find your idea intriguing, Severus. Faking Mr. Malfoy's death wouldn't be too difficult. We could say that he died in the skirmish caused by the Death Eater's break-in of Hogwarts. Although, there could be a problem with his Dark Mark… And we would have to ensure that he isn't spotted afterwards."

"Wait, you are actually allowing the Death Eaters to come into Hogwarts?" Draco said disbelievingly. The whole reason that he went to Dumbledore in the first place was to keep other people from dying. Had the man lost his marbles?

"I'm afraid that we may have to," Dumbledore sighed. "There are a few extenuating circumstances that have been brought to attention. Rest assured, though. The students' safety is my top priority." Like that made Draco feel any better.

"If you die too early, the Dark Lord will be most displeased, no matter if his task if finished or not. He wants you to suffer," Snape cut in. "We must stage your death just right. Otherwise, your parents could face his wrath. The Dark Lord isn't exactly just with his punishments, Draco."

"But what if we can bring my parents here?" Draco asked. "Then there would be no need for the Death Eaters to invade the school."

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Very true, my boy. However, there is still the problem with Severus's promise to kill me." He fixed Draco with a piercing stare. Draco had a feeling that he was about to learn something quite important. "You see, Mr. Malfoy, I must die."

Draco froze in his seat. The Headmaster's words were like a bucket of ice thrown at his face. Die? The man wanted to die? What he utterly barking mad? "Headmaster, surely you are joking?" Draco didn't think this was funny at all. Here he sat, fearing for his life, and Dumbledore was making cruel jokes.

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said. He pulled the sleeve of his right hand up. Draco had seen the blackened hand at the Welcoming Feast, but up close, it seemed so much more ghastly. The hand looked completely dead.

"What…?"

"Even the oldest of men make mistakes, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said sadly. His gaze drifted far away. "I recently acquired a rather unique ring. Unfortunately, I didn't check it for curses, such was my haste to put it on. Severus managed to create a barrier between my hand and the rest of my body in an effort to slow down the curse's effects, but not even that will stave off Death for too long. Alas, it seems that I am fated to die in just a handful of months."

Draco honestly could not believe any of this. If Dumbledore died, then what would happen to the wizarding world? Hell, what would happen to Draco? Albus Dumbledore was the only thing keeping You-Know-Who from taking over. Draco couldn't fathom losing the man. The old codger was supposed to live forever, damn it! He was probably the only person that could possibly help Draco.

"But there must be something," Draco said. His voice shook, much to his embarrassment. "I mean, there has to be a remedy for the curse."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Draco, you of all people should know that not all curses are reversible, especially not the darkest of magic."

There was a long moment of silence in which Draco simply stared at the Headmaster's hand. He felt his back beginning to ache again. He felt very weary after the maelstrom of emotions he was forced to endure. In a single day, he had defected from the dark side, figured out that his godfather was a spy for Dumbledore, and learned that the old man that he'd always derided was going to die in a few months. Now, he just wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep for the rest of his life.

**_A/N:_**_ This will be a slow-boiling Harry/Draco fiction because I'm leaning more towards developing Draco as a dynamic character. He will have to change in order to earn Harry's love because Harry's been through enough. He doesn't need his heart broken. _

_How did I do? I know it's a little slow right now, but I'm setting everything up. _

_Reviews are like koala bears. They make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. :)_


	2. Zero At The Bone

_**A/N**_: _Sorry for the delay. I was on a... vacation. But I guess this would have happened anyway. My thoughts just refuse to be turned into words, no matter what I do. But rest assured, I have not given up on this story, especially not this early in. Thank you all who have read/reviewed/favorited/are following this story. :)_

_This is officially a creature fic, though it's more like a superhero fic than anything else (because who doesn't love a good superhero? *coughBatmancough*), and it won't completely overshadow the main storyline._

_**Warning:** Let's see... Oh, yeah. This is going to be a HPDM story, which will become obvious very soon. There are a few cultural/religious references in the story from many different religions, but they're just mentioned in passing. I'm not at all trying to be didactic.  
_

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. That right belongs to the wonderful and talented J.K. Rowling. Without her, I wouldn't be the avid reader that I am._

_**Pairings**_: _Harry/Draco (slow boiling), Hermione/Ron (developing), Neville/Luna (perhaps), and others are yet to be determined._

**Chapter Two: Zero At The Bone**_  
_

The next day few days were the best of Draco's since the Dark Lord's return. The Malfoy heir was no longer Atlas. He felt as if the weight of the world, or perhaps just the weight of his conscience, had been lifted from his shoulders. When he looked in the mirror, he noticed the bags under his eyes had lightened a bit, and he actually managed to grin. The other Slytherin boys also noticed a change in him, though they probably thought that it was because Draco was finally having luck with his oh-so secretive mission.

He spent the follow days in forced contemplation, unnerved by the effect that the phoenix, Fawkes, had on him last night. He didn't know what had come over him, and he certainly didn't want to think about his previous actions. It was enough to admit that they were unsavory, and he would try not to repeat them

Draco loathed Potions now, which was rather unfortunate. Slughorn kissed Potter's arse every chance he got, and there was something incredibly strange going on with the Boy-Who-Refused-to-Die. Draco couldn't understand how Potter grew so good at Potions so fast. He used to be a pathetic excuse of a potions maker, not nearly as bad as Longbottom and Weasley, but pretty close. He had to be cheating. There couldn't be any other answer.

Unfortunately, Slughorn, being the bumbling fool that he was, couldn't see the fact, and his adoration of Potter prevented him from noticing that the boy often finished brewing potions before physically possible, according to Draco's book.

In the middle of brewing an Elixir to Induce Euphoria, a Slytherin seventh year stepped into the room to deliver Draco a message. He ignored Slughorn's incessant babbling and read the unfamiliar, curly handwriting.

_Please visit my office after your class has ended. Professor Snape and I need a quick word with you._

_Yours Sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore.  
P.S. I do enjoy Cauldron Cakes every now and then._

Draco's brow wrinkled minutely. What could the two possibly want with him? He'd already told Dumbledore all he knew about Voldemort's plans. There wasn't any more information he could give the old man. He wouldn't become the man's spy either. He wanted no part in the war.

Draco stuffed the note in his pocket and continued with his potion. By the end of the class, Draco believed that his potion was up to par with even Granger's, but Potter managed to best the both of them yet again. Using peppermint to reduce the side effects of the potion was brilliant, and Potter couldn't possibly have thought of it by himself. Draco silently seethed in his seat.

A few minutes later, Draco found himself sitting before the Headmaster, again. Severus sat in the same spot as last night, flipping through the pages of a worn book. "Professor Snape has been speaking very highly of your potions skills, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore began. Severus didn't glance up. Draco said nothing, wondering where this was going. "Would you like to help him brew some experimental potions?"

Draco wanted to tell Dumbledore to ask Potter instead, since he appeared to be such a Potions prodigy. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and nodded. What else could he say? He couldn't refuse the man, fearing that Dumbledore might take away his asylum. Plus, he was curious about the nature of these potions. Surely, Dumbledore could have asked Slughorn to assist Professor Snape, instead of a sixteen-year-old boy.

"You must understand, Mr. Malfoy, that these potions are to be kept a complete secret. No one must know of their existence in this castle, least they be stolen and used for less than noble purposes." The spark that was Draco's curiosity blazed to life. Now he just had to know.

Draco briefly pressed his lips together before asking the question that had been bugging at his mind for days. "Professor Snape, have you heard anything about my mother?"

Severus shook his head. Draco didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. No news was better than bad news. Draco sat stiffly in his chair until Severus spoke again.

"Meet me tonight, eight o' clock sharp, Draco," Professor Snape said. "We'll be brewing a batch of Wolfsbane."

Eyes widening in disbelieve, Draco was hard-pressed not to gawk at him like an idiot. Wolfsbane was an incredibly difficult potion to brew, one that Draco never would have imagined that he would have to make in his Hogwarts years. To have a chance to make it with his godfather- a very skilled Potions master- was amazing. "Yes, sir," he said simply.

Draco sat in the Great Hall, wedged in between a bunch of Death Eater seventh years. He wore his arrogance like a cloak, blending in with the rest of the Slytherins. Pansy kept sending him suspicious looks, and he couldn't help but feel a bit tense under her stare. "Are you sure you don't want to visit, Madam Pomfrey? You've been acting a bit off since we came here," she said.

The blond Slytherin sighed in aggravation. "I'm fine, Pansy. How many times must I tell you that? I've just had a lot on my mind. Besides, I'm meeting with Professor Snape tonight." This caught the attention of the seventh year boy sitting beside him. Draco pretended not to notice.

"For what?" Pansy asked, shooting a glance at the head table. Severus was not there.

"He's helping me with my little project," Draco said slyly. He glanced at the boys beside him with satisfaction. This would give them something to report to the Dark Lord. At least he appeared to be working on his task, and Draco couldn't possibly get in trouble for asking for help from Voldemort's most valuable servant.

Pansy dropped the subject after that. Draco glanced down the table and noticed Crabbes and Goyle staring sullenly at the two Slytherins. He turned his head quickly, feeling a stab of melancholy. They were good friends to Draco, no matter the intelligence of the pair. It was unfortunate that they seemed to have a nasty sadistic streak. Draco couldn't ignore their willingness to cause pain or their enjoyment during the acts. He felt even worse when he remembered that he used to be one of them.

He had used the Cruciatus Curse once before. Only once, but the tainted magic seemed to have stamped itself into his blood. Dark magic does that to a person. It's powerful. Treacherous. Many wizards shy away from wild magic because it's uncontrollable. Rituals, especially, can come back to bite the caster in the ass if he isn't careful enough.

At a quarter before eight, Draco pushed back his plate and hurried out of the Great Hall, aware of the pair of green eyes burning a hole into his back.

He knocked on Severus's door. "Enter," drawled a voice within. Draco walked into his godfather's potions room, where two cauldrons were set up, surrounded by various ingredients, meticulously arranged according to type. A few flasks of orange-red liquid, Pepper Up Potion, sat near the cauldrons.

Severus stood behind his desk. He waved an arm, and the chalkboard behind him filled with instructions. "Brewing Wolfsbane," Professor Snape began immediately in his usual drawl, "requires the greatest amount of attention to detail. If even one milligram of an ingredient is off, it could destroy the entire potion. Do you understand, Draco?"

Draco nodded, ruffled by the Potions master's tone. Draco was not a child. He understood perfectly well. He fancied himself better than Granger at Potions in raw talent alone. Severus himself had privately tutored him in Potions for years before Draco actually came to Hogwarts.

"The potion itself is very advanced, very difficult to brew, and disastrous should it be made incorrectly. The only reason I recommended you to the Headmaster is because you are the least likely to make a careless mistake. Nor will you blab about this to your classmates." At this, he fixed Draco with a piercing stare.

"Wolfsbane does not take as long to brew as other complex potions, such as the Polyjuice Potion. Its difficulty lies in its attention to detail. Wolfsbane takes exactly twenty-six uninterrupted hours to make, and every minute is of the essence." That would explain the Pepper Up Potions. That would also explain why Severus had called Draco on a weekend.

He and Professor Snape stood side-by-side. The Potions master instructed him on the various ways to prepare ingredients so as not to waste them. "Aconite is the main ingredient in Wolfsbane, hence the name," the professor began. "However, aconite is also highly toxic, especially in such large doses. We'll be adding the wolfsbane into the potion every other hour. Before and after the addition of wolfsbane, we'll also need to add a paste made of freshly ground mistletoe berries, rue, honeysuckle, and sweet basil. The ratio of each plant will be different during every addition. If you botch the paste, you will end up poisoning the drinker, or at least severely damaging their intestines."

Severus continued to explain the various properties of each ingredient in the potion and outlined the method that each and every one would be added. He repeatedly questioned Draco on what he'd said, which the younger Slytherin promptly answered. Draco was ready for this. He wouldn't pass up such a challenge.

Draco had never before focused so hard in his life. He pushed everything aside and focused solely on potion making. He nearly had a heart attack when he thought he added one too many drops of unicorn tears. Before he mixed in the aconite, he made sure to add the paste to counteract the wolfsbane's poison. Then he added the second paste. He continued to add various ingredients, simultaneously stirring the brew and creating the new pastes, all with painstaking attention to detail.

Draco couldn't afford any mistakes. If he failed at this task, Draco had a feeling Dumbledore wouldn't think him as useful and who knows what would happen to him then. Draco was desperate. He occasionally glanced over at the man next to him to make sure he was on the right track.

Severus worked beside Draco, slaving away over the hot fumes of the potion. It smelled like boiled cabbages. Ten hours in, Draco had to take a Pepper Up Potion. Severus didn't need one for another three hours. An entire day passed by without Draco even noticing the passage of time. A quick glance to his right revealed that Professor Snape was equally engrossed in his own potion.

Blue fumes curled around Draco's face. A thin layer of sweat formed on his brow. Draco was careful not to allow any of his perspiration to drip into the delicate concoction. By the end of the twenty-six hour mark, Draco had taken six bottles of Pepper Up Potion, since he needed more and more doses as time went on. His arms and legs ached, he had a raging headache, and his stomach growled viciously.

"We are finished," Professor Snape announced, glancing between the tiny clock on the wall and the two potions.

Draco mechanically slid onto the floor, leaning against the table with his eyes half-closed. He had never concentrated so bloody hard in his life. He could have fallen asleep right here and now, but Severus shoved a familiar flash into his hands. He shakily drank the brew and sluggishly stood up.

The professor approached Draco's Wolfsbane Potion and sniffed it. Then, he stuck a spoon into it and scooped up a miniscule portion of the sludgy liquid. He felt it with his fingers before placing a single drop onto his tongue. Severus's grimace caused Draco to tense up. "Is it..." Draco began.

Severus motioned for Draco to come closer. Then, he held out the spoon to the young Slytherin. "Taste it," Snape said. Draco stared at the concoction warily. "It will not poison you… if you followed the instructions." With a great deal of reluctance, Draco scooped up a bit of the goo and licked it. He gagged. The liquid tasted foul, quite similar to a mixture of vomit and sweaty socks.

"Congratulations, Draco," said Snape, his voice laced with amusement. "Not many teenage boys, if any, can say that they had successfully brewed a Wolfsbane Potion." A surge of pride washed over the blond. He had done this on his own. He had succeeded without somebody pushing him along.

"Professor," Draco said when they began cleaning up the mess, "why did we make Wolfsbane?" There were no werewolves in Hogwarts, not since Lupin left.

Snape glanced at him. "The Dark Lord is a hypocrite, Draco. Do you realize that?"

Draco licked his lips and nodded. He had heard rumors about the man, whispers that he was a half-blood, that he was raised in the muggle world. Draco was too terrified to confirm these rumors.

"He is recruiting werewolves. Dumbledore wants to give them another option. We'll be brewing quite a few of these over the next few months."

Draco didn't know whether to groan or grin.

By the time he dragged himself to his dormitory, it was two in the afternoon on Saturday, and he couldn't keep his eyes open for longer than a second. He fell asleep, still attired in the same outfit he wore Friday night, the moment his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Draco stared at the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ in disbelief early Monday morning. When it had landed on his plate of scrambled eggs, he nearly choked on his juice.

_**Mass Breakout of Azkaban by You-Know-Who! Dementors Desert Prison!**_

_Late this Saturday night, the wards around Azkaban Prison fell. The Dementors that usually guard the prison turned against the Azkaban guards, leaving lifeless husks in their wake. The ten Death Eaters that had been captured in the Department of Mysteries last year escaped, along with a few of Britain's more dangerous criminals. By the time Ministry Aurors arrived at the scene, nearly all of the guards had been murdered. Reportedly, You-Know-Who himself was at the battle._

_Minister Fudge has yet to return our calls. Anonymous reports have told us that Fudge was well aware that the Dementors were growing increasingly restless in the prison…_

The report continued on for some pages. Fudge was in some serious hot water over the situation. Many were furious at the Minister's apparent lack of concern over the wizarding world's safety. Even more were vying for his dismissal from the position as Minster of Magic, especially after the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic last year.

Draco's eyes sought out his father's picture. The Malfoy patriarch stared back at him with an inscrutable expression. Gray bags lined his eyes, and his hair had fallen out of its carefully arranged ponytail. Draco stared at the man with mixed emotions. All his life, he had been taught that, as a Malfoy, he was far above the hoi polloi. He, the heir of the Malfoy line, never followed anyone.

"You're a born leader," Draco's father once told him. "You do not follow anybody. You do now bow to anybody. You are a pureblood, a wizard with powers no Mudblood could even dream of. Never forget that."

_Father forgot_. _He's nothing more than a lowly pawn_. Resentment boiled deep within the Malfoy heir. Lucius had forgotten that little tidbit. He crawled on the floor, practically licking the Dark Lord's boots. He followed, obedient as a house elf, and feared for his life every time he made a mistake.

Draco found the whole ordeal disgusting, dirty. There was no dignity in being a Death Eater. The Mark held no prestige. It was just a brand. He had been branded like a cow. Draco had the sudden urge to get rid of the Mark. It felt like lead against his arm, constricting him, tainting him. He surreptitiously rubbed it under the table.

"… Excited. Right, Draco?" Pansy asked, drawing Draco's attention back to his surroundings. He glanced around and noticed a few Slytherins staring at him expectantly.

He turned his gaze to Pansy. "Could you repeat that?"

"You must be excited, Draco," she said cheerfully. "Your father's out of Azkaban."

Draco wasn't entirely sure what he felt. He was a bit excited. Family was everything to a Malfoy, as Draco had repeatedly been told. He would sell the Dark Lord out in a heartbeat if it meant protecting his family. At the same time, however, Draco felt bitter and betrayed by his father for forcing this lifestyle onto him. He couldn't help but feel as if Lucius had lied to Draco his whole life. Draco had grown up hearing fantastic tales about the Dark Lord and how he would change the wizarding world for the better.

"Yes," Draco curtly replied to Pansy. He peeked at the head table and caught a glimpse of his godfather. Severus's skin appeared paler than usual, but that could have been because he'd been up for over two dozen hours.

After breakfast, Draco trudged down to the greenhouses for N.E.W.T.s Herbology. Pansy and Theodore Nott were the only Slytherins who accompanied him. They shared the class with three Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs, and, unfortunately, a bunch of Gryffindors.

Draco couldn't help but scowl at Potter's continuous glare in his direction. Honestly, the bloody Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die also refused to leave him alone since the train incident. Draco could practically feel those green eyes on him everywhere he went. He wanted to break the idiot Gryffindor's nose again just to get him to stop staring.

"Okay, you lot! Settle down," Professor Sprout shouted over the din. She waited until everybody had quieted down. "Today, we'll start growing Agni trees. Does anybody know the characteristics of an Agni tree?"

Predictably, Granger's hand shot up into the air before anybody else had a chance to process the question. Draco snorted under his breath. Bleeding know-it-all. Longbottom's hand went up next. Draco leaned against the greenhouse panel and stared outside. A black blur flashed across Draco's vision as he stared into the Forbidden Forest. Draco squinted his eyes. There it was again!

"Mr. Malfoy!" Draco whipped his head around. Professor Sprout stared at him with impatience. Across the room, Weasley smirked at him. Draco sneered back. "Would you care to explain to the class what an Agni tree is?"

Draco stared at the familiar plant in her hand. It was but a sapling. A small stem poked out of its little pot, and a few waxy leaves grew out of the thin strand of green. They occasionally emitted small orange sparks "Agni trees have a natural resistance to fire because their blossoms burst into flames during pollen season. It's also a defense against predators who want to eat the tree's fruit." Agni trees were declared hazardous according to the Ministry, but Draco's mother had planted two in their garden anyway.

"You are correct. Five points to Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy." Draco inclined his head. Once Sprout's head was turned, Draco glanced back out the window. The dark shape in the forest was gone. It must have been just another one of Hagrid's beasts. Bloody creatures were a menace to society. Draco turned his attention back to Sprout.

Then, the window closest to Draco shattered, sending the Slytherin teenager stumbling back amidst a shower of pointy shards. Screams pierced the air as more greenhouse windows exploded inwards. Draco's side slammed into the greenhouse table. His skin was peppered with small cuts, some of which bled freely. Dazed and confused, Draco couldn't do more than blink at his injuries while other students frantically ran towards the door.

"Watch your step now," Professor Sprout shouted over the babble. "If that was Peeves, I will…" She muttered something that caused the students in front of her to glance at the plump woman with shocked eyes.

Draco carefully made his way to the doorway, healing himself with a wave of his wand. He made sure to take care of every single cut. _Damn that poltergeist!_ Draco shoved his way through the mob of students who were jamming the door and stumbled outside.

The air was still. As the students around him began walking towards the castle, some to heal their injuries, Draco found his feet stuck to the ground. A strange sensation, akin to being watched by a shadowy figure in a dark alleyway, washed over him. All of his senses immediately went on high alert as a rush of adrenaline ran through his vein. Draco whipped his head around, catching sight of Potter a few feet away. Their eyes met for a brief moment. The Gryffindor's eyes mirrored Draco's own uneasy ones.

"Do you feel that?" Potter asked.

"Yes." Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket. He swallowed nervously. Draco's back began to ache.

Potter suddenly dived to his right, barely missing a strange black shape that sailed over his head. Draco jerked away, falling over himself and painfully landing on his back. The black shape soared over his head and materialized into a vague humanoid shape. As Draco stared at it, it grew more tangible. Draco released a disgusted gasp when he gazed at the form of an inhuman monster. All of the blood drained from his face.

The creature had scaly skin the color of a bruise, purple and blue. Its long legs and muscular arms were similar to a human, but there were gaping holes in its flesh. Its face resembled something straight out of Draco's nightmare, far more terrifying than even the Dark Lord himself. Strings of flesh dangled from the mangled remains of the neck area. Its eyes were black pits sunken into the face, and when it opened its mouth unnaturally wide, Draco glimpsed a series of razor sharp teeth.

It couldn't possibly be from this earth.

Another dark shape joined the first. And another. And another, until there were at least half a dozen _things_ circling the students. Somebody screamed. One creature lunged at a Terry Boots. And all hell broke loose. People ran left and right in panic, regardless of House. Three of the monsters broke rank and attacked anybody close by. Cries of pain pierced the air.

Draco stood rooted to the spot as he watched Pansy attempting to hide in the greenhouse, which promptly burst into flames. Pansy screamed, her robes on fire. Hermione Granger managed to quench the flames with an Aguamenti Charm. Finnegan tried to shove his way past some of the Hufflepuffs and only managed to shove them closer to the circling trio of monsters.

The creatures viciously swiped at anybody who attempted to break through their barrier. One opened its mouth and released an earth-shattering shriek that had several people falling to their knees. Professor Sprout threw up a barrier between the students and those creatures, but they didn't seem the least bit affected by the Physical Shield. In fact, they didn't falter under any of the curses thrown their way.

They were unaffected by magic.

Throughout the bedlam, Draco just stood there, paralyzed by fear. He couldn't run or he'd be attacked. He didn't dare fight because he'd be attacked. If he just stood here, he'd probably be attacked.

When he was little, Draco had loved watching the house elves work in the kitchen, mainly because they would sneak him some sweets, something that his parents would never usually allow. One day, one of the house elves spilled a pot of soup onto the floor. Draco had been running around the kitchen, playing a stupid game with a house elf, and he slipped on the soup and fell into the fireplace while it had been burning. The fireplace wasn't a wizard one, meaning it didn't have a safety net. Half of his body was burnt to a crisp by the time the house elves pulled him out. His parents had ranted and raved at the elves for hours and great deals of punishments were dished out. It had taken forever to calm the four-year-old down and even longer to heal the extensive burns on his body. Ever since then, Draco was too afraid to even stand near the fireplace.

This fear almost overwhelmed his fireplace one.

"Malfoy, move out of the way!" Potter said frantically, somewhere to his right.

Draco could not, for the life of him, move. He just couldn't. One of the creatures rushed towards him, emitting an inhuman screech that made Draco's flesh erupt with goosebumps.

A bolt of red light zipped over Draco's shoulder, striking the creature right in its face. The creature stopped moving, and Draco felt a moment's worth of relief before it let out another scream and lunged. The Slytherin simply watched it approach, dumbfounded. A few more spells zipped at it, but the creature didn't so much as flinch.

_Oh, Morgana, we're all going to die! I'm going to die!_

A heavy weight slammed into Draco from behind. His heart briefly stopped. This was it. "What are you doing, Malfoy?" Potter hissed in his ear. "Don't just stand there like a dead fish. Do something!"

Potter called out, "_Sectumsempra,_" and a huge wave of magic- enough to leave Draco dazed- forcefully propelled the spell towards the monster's head, cutting it clean off. The body collapsed into a disgusting heap on the ground. It convulsed once. Twice. Then there was nothing. "What in the world…" Potter muttered, rolling off of Draco.

The blond snapped out of his paralysis. He pointed his wand at the creature that three other students were attacking. He shot off a series of curses, each one growing progressively darker. It wasn't like anybody would call him out on it when they had more pressing concerns. "_Fervidermis!"_ Draco desperately cried. The obviously Dark curse slammed into the creature's chest and set it aflame. It finally let out a particularly pained scream and clawed at the skin. Some of the students noticed this and attempted to set the other beasts on fire as well, but it only managed to slow the creatures down.

"Potter, how did you kill the first one?" Draco shouted.

"I don't know. I just used _Septumsempra_," Potter said. "But it doesn't seem to be working this time!"

"They're susceptible to fire," Draco said. "Try tha-"

He was abruptly cut off when the monster that he was battling took advantage of his momentary distraction and rammed into him. He went down with a yelp. The monster was even more disgusting up close. It smelled of rotting flesh. The slimy skin of the creature felt absolutely revolting. Draco nearly vomited.

It began clawing at his face, and Draco viciously kicked out at it as only a cornered Malfoy-fearing-for-his-life could. It got a few swipes at Draco's neck, leaving a trail of hot pain along the way, but then it was thrown off of him by Potter forceful kick. "Are you okay?" the Gryffindor asked, pulling him up. Potter's eyes snapped over Draco's shoulder, and he shot a curse in that direction. Again, a wave of magic pushed at Draco's senses. The beast behind Draco let out a keening whimper and literally exploded.

"Aw, disgusting!" Draco whined, covered in god only knows what. Potter's grip on Draco's hand tightened as he threw another curse at a monster that Pansy, Granger, and Weasley were fighting. The spell cut the creature's arm clear off.

Something clicked when Draco stared down at his and Potter's clasped hands. Draco repeated the Skin Igniting Curse and watched as the fourth beast went down with flames eating up its unctuous skin. It fell atop Abbott, who screamed bloody murder and ran to Sprout.

The two remaining creatures realized that they were quickly losing and released two more blood-curdling shrieks. They stared across the field at Draco with such hateful, evil eyes that Draco felt his flesh crawl. They moved in a blur. At first, Draco thought that they would attack him, but they fled towards the Forbidden Forest in a blur of black. Draco watched their shapes disappear in the shadows.

It was then that Draco remembered that he was bleeding. His neck burned with each movement, and he felt a warm trickle slide down his skin. A long gash ran from his shoulder down his left arm, ripping open his sleeve on the way. He quickly managed to hide his arm, but Potter's eyes caught the movement. However, his attention was quickly subverted by the crying.

A group of battered students stood in a loose circle around two figures. One was Lisa Turpin. She kneeled next to a deathly pale figure that lay supine on the grass. The girl's face had been ripped in half. Turpin gasped for breath through her sobs. Blood leaked onto the grass, staining the green with crimson. Draco stumbled back, ripping his hands away from Potter's. His stomach churned dangerously.

He ignored the weeping students, Pansy's cries, and the crackling of the flames that burned the greenhouse to a crisp. He clamped a hand over his bleeding limb, feeling fairly faint.

Draco was halfway up the hill when Dumbledore appeared in front of him in a burst of flames. His good hand clutched Fawkes's tail. He stared at Draco with worried eyes that burned with a strange inner fire. Dumebledore stared at the blood dripping down Draco's arm. "Mr. Malfoy, please go to the infirmary immediately." Draco nodded mutely. Dumbledore brushed past him, jogging down the hill with surprising speed.

But Draco did not go to the infirmary. He went straight to Professor Snape's room. Severus threw open the door after three knocks. He stared down at the injured boy and moved aside silently. He went to his cupboard and pulled out a few familiar potions. "Drink," he commanded. Draco took the vials and drank them in an accustomed order. The wounds began to heal themselves, albeit much slower than most normally would.

"May I ask what happened?" Severus finally asked, watching the cut on Draco's neck close up. His eyes were unreadable.

"I don't know what they were," Draco whispered shakily. He cleared his throat. "They just appeared out of nowhere." Instead of attempting to explain the situation, Draco pointed his wand at his head and pulled out a silvery wisp of memory. He placed it onto his cupped hand and held it out to Severus. The man flicked his wand and a shallow bowl floated over and hovered between them. The silvery wisp floated into Severus's Pensieve.

Draco waited as the Potions master viewed his memories. He rubbed his temple and tried to push away the image of a prone figure, lying there in the grass. Alone. Finally, Severus pulled himself out of the memory and sat there, white-faced. He stared at Draco with an odd gleam in his eye but didn't speak.

"What were they?" Draco asked, hands shaking. He'd never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. They felt evil. Compared to them, the Dark Lord might as well have been a playground bully. Those things exuded malevolence and insanity.

Draco violently shuddered.

"Come. We are going to speak with the Headmaster," Snape said. He stood swiftly and stalked across the room.

"Do you know what's happening? Why did they attack us? What are they? Why did my magic react when I touched Potter?" Draco demanded, jogging to keep up with the older Slytherin.

"I assure you, I do not have those answers."

They walked to Dumbledore's office in complete silence. Not a soul wandered the hallways. When they reached the gargoyles, Severus murmured the password. The gargoyles jumped aside. The pair traveled up the staircase and into an empty room. "Sit," Severus commanded softly.

Draco sat. And waited. And waited.

And waited.

The door finally opened, revealing Dumbledore and Potter. The Headmaster never appeared so old as he did now. His face was worn, revealing many wrinkles and creases. His blue eyes peered at the two Slytherins in his office without the characteristic twinkle. Potter stiffened when he noticed Draco and Severus. There were several bruises on his face that seemed weeks old, probably thanks to healing spells.

"I cannot say that I am surprised to see you here, Severus," Dumbledore said, sitting down in his high back chair. "I assume you heard of the tragedy?"

"Yes, and I also saw the… exchange between Potter and Draco," Severus said. Draco's brows furrowed, but Potter seemed equally as perplexed, so Draco felt better.

Dumbledore sighed. He summoned a large stack of books. "I have a hunch, but I'm praying that I am wrong." He opened up a small journal, frayed at the edge. It looked ancient, like it would fall apart at any minute. "I found this little treasure in the Chamber of Secrets."

Potter started. "The Chamber? But how did you…"

"I may have picked up a phrase or two of Parseltongue during my travels," the Headmaster said. "The books in Salazar's study were very enlightening. I imagine this one to be over a thousand years old." Draco stared at the book with reverence. Salazar Slytherin's books? Ancient tomes of obscure knowledge? He'd have to read them.

Dumbledore flipped through the pages. "I believe that Voldemort has found the _Book of Thoth_."

Severus's eyebrows shot up and his mouth parted in shock. "I beg your pardon, Headmaster. I must have heard incorrectly. Surely you do not mean the one and only _Book of Thoth_."

"I'm afraid that you heard correctly. How Voldemort found that book I cannot understand." Dumbledore entwined his fingers and perched them on his desk. "But Mr. Malfoy's claim that Voldemort went to Egypt during the summer does support my theory. That, along with this." He pushed the book across the desk so that Draco could see the rough sketch on the thin sheet of paper. It looked strikingly similar to the monsters that attacked them a mere hour ago. The artist even managed to capture the creature's soulless gaze.

"Voldemort has released an ancient race known as daimera. Daimera are the progenitors of dementors but they're more intelligent and much more cruel." An ominous feeling washed over Draco at Dumbledore's grave tone. "Daimera have souls, but they're dark and twisted. They do not feel like humans. Neither do they have similar a morality. Daimera thrive in death and destruction much like we grow under nourishment and kindness."

"And Voldemort released them?" Potter exclaimed. "From where?"

Dumbledore pulled the book towards him and flipped through a few pages. "About three millennia ago, daimera ravished the mortal realm. Early humans worshipped daimera as deities. The daimera were powerful beings. Their magic outstripped even the strongest wizard."

"If they were so powerful, how were they defeated?" Draco asked. If the Dark Lord managed to free those creatures, how were mere wizards supposed to defend themselves?

"One must remember that nature requires balance, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said. "There was only one thing that the daimera ever feared. These creatures were the adhegan. Adhegan, or adhika, were said to be protectors of all magical creatures. Murugan himself is said to have appointed them, according to mythology, though they appear in texts dating back to Mesopotamia. Regardless of their origin, they were the dairmeras' mortal enemies."

"Why only them?" Draco asked.

"Adhegan were not the only ones who were able to create a tear in the fabric of the universe. Unicorns can do so as well. However, adhegan actively fought against the daimera. The adhegan banished the daimera from the mortal world into an isolated realm that was then sealed off. They became the guardians of the portal between this world and the daimera's realm."

"What happened to the adhegan? Surely such powerful creatures would have been heard of before," Professor Snape drawled.

Dumbledore sighed. "Alas, that is where our information runs out. This text must have been written before the adhegan faded out of existence. I cannot tell you any more about their history."

"Well, if Voldemort figured out how to free these daimera things, then we have to find an adhika to fight them, right?" Potter asked.

"We'd have a better chance of asking unicorns for help," Draco muttered pessimistically. Honestly, daimera? Adhegan? He'd never heard of any of these things. How would they be able to find an adhika to help them? They might be extinct for all they knew.

"Actually," Dumbledore began, a glimmer in his eyes, "I have a feeling that finding an adhika to help us won't be that difficult. In fact, I believe to be speaking with a pair right now."

* * *

_Feel free to leave a review/critique/question. I'll try to answer the questions if I can, and I thank you for any constructive criticism or review. :D_


	3. The Darkest Evening Of The Year

_**A/N: **Yeah, I have this obsession with Harry/Draco bonding fics for some odd reason. So... bewaaaaare._

_Thank you to my wonderful reviews/favoriters/followers. My apologies for any mistakes. I usually catch them after reading the chapter again once it's posted and then correct them. _

_**Warning**: Harry/Draco, violence, psychos running amuck._

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. That right belongs to the wonderful and talented J.K. Rowling. Without her, I wouldn't be the avid reader that I am._

_**Pairings**_: _Harry/Draco (slow boiling), Hermione/Ron (developing), Neville/Luna (perhaps), and others are yet to be determined._

**Chapter Three: The Darkest Evening Of The Year**_  
_

Draco stared. He couldn't help it. He just stared at Dumbledore as if waiting for the man's beard to come to life and demand a haircut. Did the old man just imply that Draco- that he, a pureblooded wizard, was some sort of freakish monster?

"Yeah, right," Potter said, snorting, but the longer it took for Dumbledore to respond, the less amused Draco appeared. Draco stared at the headmaster intently, watching for any tell signs to show that he was teasing them. "You… are you serious?"

"I am very serious," the Headmaster replied. There was a moment of silence

"This is preposterous," Draco snapped, standing up. How dare this old codger tell him, _a Malfoy_, that he was less than a wizard? "I don't know what you're playing at with this ridiculous charade, but I refuse to be part of it. I-"

"-will sit down, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said sharply, pinning Draco with a piercing glare. "Do not disrespect the Headmaster, Draco."

Draco opened his mouth and immediately closed it. He sat with a huff. Potter shifted in his seat. "I hate to say it," Potter began, glancing at Draco scornfully, "but I have to agree with Malfoy. How would you be able to tell?"

Dumbledore leaned back and rubbed the back of his blackened hand. "The book gives us a few tidbits about adhegan that I find quite interesting. Did you know, for example, that specific a number of adhegan are born into the world every century? They are appointed by magic, and there should be exactly fourteen adhegans in the world at any time. This means that when any pair dies, another is born within a few short months. Adhegan also have a singular ability of being able to link their magic with their partners, which makes them at least twice as powerful as most other magical creatures."

Draco's thoughts raced around his head. He thought about the strange things that happened during the earlier fight with the daimera. His magic had reacted with Potter's without him even thinking about it. When they touched, it felt like a reservoir of magic had suddenly appeared to do Draco's bidding. He felt powerful, in control.

No. There had to be some other reason for this. Draco couldn't be… He couldn't possibly be an adhika. "You mentioned something about a pair of adhegan. What does that mean?"

"Adhegan can control their magic in one way, and that is through connecting themselves to each other," Dumbledore said. "They have the ability to harness wild magic, which in itself is an extraordinary feat. But this power could quickly get out of hand. It can kill you, Mr. Malfoy. Magic does not care for things such as life and death. In order to control this magic, there must be a stabilizer, some kind of support to prevent the wild magic from consuming the user. This is why wizards use wands, but adhegan have too much excess magic for a wand to work for them."

Draco had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling indeed. "What do adhegan use?"

Dumbledore dropped his hands flat on the desk. His expression grew grave. "Simply put, the two of you need to bond."

It would have been less shocking to see a vampire fly through the window than it was to hear Dumbledore's declaration. "Have you lost your mind?" Draco exclaimed. Even Professor Snape stared at the man as if he'd finally fallen off the broomstick. Potter simply sat there and stared at the Headmaster in confusion, but Draco was hardly surprised.

"Mr. Malfoy, this is not a typical bonding, I assure you," said Dumbledore calmly, as if he hadn't just dropped the biggest cauldron of bologna onto Draco's head.

"What's a bonding?" Potter asked stupidly.

He was generally ignored. "Your assurance does not satisfy me… Sir," Draco snapped. "I will not have anything to do with Potter, let alone allow you to marry us."

Potter's mouth formed a small "O". His face quickly grew bright red, the blush spreading down his neck. "_Marry_? You want me to _marry-_"

"Sir, I cannot understand where you are going with-" Severus said.

"This is rubbish!" Draco hissed, attempting to keep calm even as his anger overtook him. "I refuse, absolutely refuse, to believe any of this garbage-"

"-done a lot of weird stuff before but this takes the cake. I'd rather be eaten by an Inferi then-"

"-press will have a field day with this. And Draco would be at a much greater risk if-"

"There is no proof that I'm some sort of mythical creature, and I will not bind myself to… to _him_ under such a ridiculous assum-"

"-so what if my magic's been a bit wonky lately. There has to be another explanation-"

"-another way to defeat those monsters. Perhaps we should look into ritualistic spells or-"

"_Enough!_" Dumbledore barked, standing up. Draco's mouth immediately shut, as did Potter's and Severus's. Dumbledore rubbed his temple and sighed. "I apologize for being so abrupt. Perhaps I should have broken this gently. If we do not control your magic, then there is no way to safely use it. You are young right now, and your powers are still growing. It may appear dorment at the moment, but there is no knowing when it will awaken. I imagine that the appearance of the daimera have triggered something within you two."

"Would it be possible to show us some proof of these powers, sir?" Potter asked. It was the only sensible thing he'd said since Draco had met him.

Dumbledore fished around in his desk. There was much clinking and rustling. His entire arm disappeared into the desk at one point. Finally, he produced a transparent glass orb. He held it out to the group. "I picked this up on one of my travels to South America. It records the relative strength of a wizard's magic. Not very useful but fascinating nonetheless."

He cast a Levitating Charm onto the glass orb. It didn't float, but it did pulsate with deep blue light. "As you can see, the orb isn't affected by magic. Instead, it absorbs it. Red indicates that the caster has just enough power to consider himself a wizard. I have met people who've been able to turn the orb red, orange, yellow, green, and blue but not anything further that. I assume that the orb follows a specific pattern, which means that violet indicates that the caster is most powerful."

Dumbledore conjured up a circular holder onto the desk for the orb."If you will, Harry." Potter pulled out his wand and cast a Stinging Hex at the orb. It erupted into bright blue light. Of course, perfect Potter was on par with the powerful professor.

"Now you, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco resisted the urge to grumble and threw a similar spell at the sphere. Again, it glowed bright blue. Draco threw Potter a smug smirk. Here was proof that Draco was just as good as Potter, if not better. If only his father were…

"Now, if you both will connect your magic, we will see if my theory is correct," said Dumbledore. He smiled at the two teenagers' baffled expressions. "The easiest way to do so is by skin-to-skin contact."

Draco grumbled under his breath. He eyed Potter as if the Gryffindor was a Blast-Ended Skrewt with diarrhea. Potter appeared equally as averse to the idea. Then, he roughly grabbed Draco's hand and snapped a quick cutting curse. The orange bolt of light impacted with the orb. A moment later, it exploded into an array of colors, as if it were frantically searching for the correct hue. Draco saw dots in his vision. He blinked them away, and when he looked at the orb again, it was pitch black.

The four occupants in the room stood in silence. Fawkes ruffled his feathers. The portraits stared down at the quartet in silent shock. The dark smoke in the sphere dissipated, but still nobody moved. Draco was flabbergasted. This couldn't possibly be happening to him, not when he was just starting his life over again. Was it too much to ask for peace? Was this some sort of divine retribution for every evil thing that he had ever done?

Voice tinged with desperation, Draco shouted "_Expulso_!" The spell collided with the orb again and it flashed through various colors before finally settling on black.

"Not even Voldemort would be able to compete with this power," Dumbledore said quietly.

Draco ripped his hand out of Potter's grasp. "If you think for one second that I'd willingly tie myself to Potter, you must be out of your bloody mind!"

"Draco," Professor Snape barked. Then, he grabbed his left arm and his face twisted in pain. Draco felt a twinge in his own Dark Mark but knew enough to realize that it was not him that was being called.

Professor Snape stared up at Dumbledore. "Go, Severus," the Headmaster said. Professor Snape stalked out of the room in a flurry of black fabric. Draco watched him go with dread. Now he was alone. With a senile old man who fancied himself a matchmaker and Potter. He wasn't sure who was worse.

Dumbledore sat back in his seat and seemed to deflate a bit. He stared sadly at Potter before switching his doleful gaze to Draco. "I know it seems unfair, but I urge you two to consider this. This power shared between you has the ability to defeat Voldemort permanently. He would no longer be able to terrorize the world, kill innocents, spill blood."

_Scarlet smeared across the wall. Bloody drops splashed against the grass. _

The man was good at manipulation; Draco gave him that. It actually made him pause. He peeked over at Potter and saw the Gryffindor's face crumble. _You slick bastard, appealing to Potter's guilt complex like this._ Potter would do it. The idiot would probably rip out his own heart to save a kitten. But Draco was smarter than that.

* * *

Dumbledore's words echoed in Draco's head as he walked deeper into the dungeon. No matter how hard he tried to shake them off, the words continued to swirl in his thoughts. Potter had stayed behind for more information, but Draco had heard enough. He couldn't stand another minute in that room.

His whole life was one big cosmic joke. He wasn't a pureblood like he'd been told since his birth. Hell, he wasn't even _human_. Just when he had tasted freedom, wiggled out from beneath his father's foot or the Dark Lord's grasp, it all came crashing down. Now, he had some dodgy connection to his most hated rival, and _he wasn't human!_

Did his father know? No. How could he? What would Lucius say when Draco told him about this, if Draco told him at all? Draco didn't know what he would do or what he could do. Yes, he'd taken the plunge and left the Dark Lord's service, but this was just too much.

"Where have you been, Draco?" Pansy snapped the moment Draco entered the Slytherin common room. She stalked towards him, one hand on her hip. Half of her robes had large holes in them from catching on fire earlier. A swell of relief washed over Draco. He had been so terrified that he hadn't even spared a thought for her during the fight. It was frankly shameful.

"Sorry, Pansy, but I needed to speak with Professor Snape about this," Draco said. They stood in an awkward silence. Draco suspected that Pansy knew something had changed between them. They were growing apart. He could see it in Pansy's eyes.

She stared at him. "Draco," she said in a shaky voice, "what's going on? What were those things?"

Draco's eyes wandered away from her face. "They're some sort of ancient race of Dementors and were sent by Y- the Dark Lord." He cursed his slip of tongue.

Pansy's eyes widened. Her brows furrowed and she leaned towards him, like she just couldn't believe that You-Know-Who was capable of such a thing. Draco almost snorted. _Yes, because the man is far too virtuous to kill innocent children. He wouldn't even dream about sending some sort of demonic beast after us._ "The Dark Lord sent them? But they're so-" She cut off abruptly and pivoted on her heels. "I'm going to take a nap." With that sharp statement, she took off for her dormitory room.

Draco stood there in confusion until somebody shoved him aside. He turned to glare at the idiot that dared push a Malfoy. Theodore Nott sneered back at him. His thin face couldn't handle the strain of that particular facial expression, and it made him appear a bit constipated. "Watch where you're going, Nott," Draco hissed.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Malfoy," Nott said lowly. He stepped closer, invading Draco's personal space. The blond refused to budge. "Our Lord is growing a bit suspicious, especially after he heard about your little trips to Dumbledore's office."

If Draco didn't have such control over his own body, he would have blanched. As it were, he felt as if a bucket of ice had been dropped over his head. Draco stepped closer to the asinine man and snarled, "I know that it may be difficult to control your jealousy, but if I were you, I wouldn't stick my grotesquely large nose in other people's business. Who knows what will happen to it."

"I wouldn't be so cocky, especially if my mother's life depended on my success." Draco wanted to punch him. "The Dark Lord is watching you, Malfoy," Nott snapped.

"I have nothing to hide," Draco said. Of course, he was lying like a rug, but Draco was very good at that.

* * *

It wasn't until next morning that Draco saw Severus. The Slytherin Head of House burst through the doors of the Great Hall in the middle of breakfast. His face was ashen, expression blank. Draco's stomach churned. He pushed back his plate of potatoes and watched his godfather hurry towards Dumbledore. They spoke for a few moments and Dumbledore's eyes flickered in Draco's directions.

Draco watched Severus approach him with dread. The Potions professor stopped in front of him. "Mr. Malfoy, please accompany me to my office." Draco hastily stood and followed the older man down to the dungeon. They walked in silence, and Draco's imagination ran wild with every possible ghastly situation that his mother could endure.

The second they entered Severus's personal quarters, Draco said, "Uncle Severus, what happened?"

"Have a seat, Draco."

Draco sat in a nearby chair and waited impatiently. Severus pulled up another chair and sat down right in front of him. His tired, brown eyes stared into Draco's own silvery ones with sorrow, and Draco suddenly knew, without Severus even having to open his mouth.

"No," Draco whispered.

"Draco, your mother was murdered."

The words came out of a tunnel. Draco didn't entirely register them. He sat there, muscles stiffened almost painfully. He stared at his godfather with unblinking eyes. A chill crept up Draco's arms. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat tightened and he couldn't breath.

His mother was dead. She, the only person who ever truly believed in him and supported him, was gone. Draco's mother was the most loving person he had ever known, no matter what others said about her. Narcissa always put his needs first, always looked out for his well-being. She stood up to Lucius when she felt that he was pushing Draco too hard. She protected him. Draco loved his mother like nothing else in the world.

And now she was gone.

Dead.

And Draco was alone.

"How?" Draco managed to choke out.

Severus leaned forward and placed his hand on Draco's shoulder. "The Dark Lord killed her."

Draco's eyes itched. They flooded with water, and Draco tried to blink the impending tears away. "Why?" Hadn't he been careful? Hadn't he tried to do everything right? He had tried to be good, and his mother ended up dying because of him.

Was there anything that Draco could do right?

"This is not your fault, Draco," Severus said firmly. Draco couldn't believe him. "The Dark Lord is associating himself with something. Something inhuman, dark. He is being driven mad. It is worse than before. Now, he's willing to kill anybody first and torture them later. Narcissa… she tried to leave, Draco. She attempted to sneak out, but somebody caught her."

White-hot rage replaced Draco's grief. "Who snitched?" he breathed harshly. He'd kill them. He'll murder them with his bare hands.

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

The air left Draco's lungs with a quick _whoosh_. His own aunt, his mother's sister, was the reason that his mother was dead. She knew that the Dark Lord would if he caught her trying to escape. Draco had always thought that Bellatrix had some love towards his mother but he was sorely mistaken. She was truly past the point of sanity.

That _bitch_.

Draco suddenly could not stand this room or this chair or even his godfather's presence. He needed to be alone. He wouldn't let Severus see him cry. Draco was up and out of the chair before Severus could stop him. His feet pounded against the cold stone floor of the empty hallway.

He couldn't go to his room if he hoped for privacy. The bastards in his dormitory would no doubt use his moment of weakness to their advantage. Instead, he made his way to an empty corridor where a tapestry of a group of poorly dancing trolls hung on the wall.

Draco swiftly paced beside the tapestry as warm tears slid down his cheek. He wasn't really thinking about any place in particular. He just needed a place to be alone.A massive wooden door appeared against the wall and Draco wrenched it open.

The Room of Requirement had provided him with bedroom the size of Draco's dormitory. Except instead of five beds, this room only had one enormous bed, covered in a green blanket, right in the center of it. An end table stood beside the bed, and a box of tissues sat atop it. Other than that, the room was bare.

Draco dragged himself onto the bed and allowed his grief take over. The tears fell freely now. For the first time since his third year, Draco actually cried. His nose grew stuffed, and his skin was probably blotchy. For once, he didn't care. He didn't care if he didn't look like a Malfoy. He had just lost his mother and he was entitled to grieve in peace.

He was unquestionably sorrowful, but he was also livid. This was his fault, yes, but it was also Lucius's fault, Bellatrix's fault. But that anger paled in comparison to the loathing he felt towards Voldemort. He hated that man. Absolutely abhorred him, and he would pay dearly for this crime.

Draco must have fallen asleep at some point because he woke up groggy and his tears had dried. His eyes felt puffy and moist. Draco blew his nose on a tissue and climbed out of the bed. He made his way out of the room. Draco's muscles felt cumbersome and uncooperative. Every step was a chore.

There was a large hole somewhere in Draco's stomach. He schooled his features as best he could and stoutly kept himself from thinking about his mother.

The sky had darkened and the only visible light in the dim hallways came from the full moon. Draco reached the twin gargoyles. "I would like to speak with the Headmaster," he said. He waited for a long stretch of time. When he began thinking that it might be close to midnight and the Headmaster wouldn't like to be disturbed, the gargoyles jumped apart.

For the fourth time in a handful of days, Draco stepped onto the moving platform and found himself standing in front of Dumbledore's door. He breathed deeply, suddenly recalling his first visit here. Unlike back then, Draco was confident in his decision. He pushed open the door.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk. The man's midnight blue nightgown had tiny stars shooting across the fabric, and it hung off his tall frame. Draco sat across from the man. He gathered a smidgen of courage from the depths of his emotions and finally spoke.

"I'll do it."

Dumbledore sat back in his seat, his blue eyes filled with sadness. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Mr. Malfoy."

"Me, too." Draco's throat closed up but he roughly cleared it. That wasn't why he was here. "I will bond with Potter."

"Are you positive, Mr. Malfoy? You will not be able to turn back once you do," Dumbledore cautioned. Draco nodded decisively. He didn't know what kind of connection Dumbledore wanted to form between Draco and Potter, but Draco would do anything to destroy Voldemort.

"The sooner this is done, the better," the old man said. He turned to a portrait of a rather plump woman attired in an elegant black dress. She was the only one who was awake. "My dear Isabel, would you be so kind as to deliver a message to Severus Snape? Please ask him to collect Harry Potter and hurry immediately to my office."

The woman smiled and disappeared from her frame. Draco and Dumbledore sat in a heavy silence. "What kind of bonding are you thinking about, sir?" Draco finally asked.

"I will explain everything to you once Mr. Potter and Professor Snape arrive."

This didn't take too long. Seven minutes later, the door opened. A ruffled Potter and an impeccably dressed Severus entered the room. Potter rubbed his eyes sleepily. "What's going on?" Potter asked. His eyes darted between Draco and Dumbledore. The two took their respective seats.

"Mr. Malfoy has agreed to the bonding," Dumbledore said.

Potter's eyes snapped open. "What?" He goggled at Draco. "Why the sudden change of heart, Malfoy?"

"That's none of your business, Potter," Draco hissed. He glanced at his godfather's face and felt a bit of mirth at the man's flabbergasted expression. It wasn't often that the dour man was taken off-guard.

"Well, excuse me, Malfoy, for thinking you'd done it out of the goodness of your heart," Potter said harshly.

Draco wanted to punch the arrogant Gryffindor. He had almost forgotten how much he despised the raven-haired boy until just now. There was no way that he could be married to the prick because, no matter what Dumbledore said, a bonding ceremony was essentially marriage. While not completely legal, it was seen as unbreakable union by most everyone.

He turned to Dumbledore and was just about to tell him that he couldn't do this, when he was hit by a wave of grief. It came out of nowhere and left him breathless.

He wouldn't back out. This was for his mother.

"Are you sure you want to commit yourself to Potter," Severus asked, fairly spitting the Gryffindor's name. "You do know that this is irreversible?"

Potter glared at the Potions master. "Yes," Draco mumbled, refusing to meet anybody's eyes. His confidence was waning fast. If Dumbledore didn't hurry up, he might lose any courage that he had mustered up.

Dumbledore seemed to have noticed this, for he said, "The bonding ritual that I would like to use is an ancient ceremony, believing to have dated back to the era of the adhegan. It is the closest bond that I could find to their time." Draco wanted to ask what the bond entailed, but he would probably back out of this deal if he did, so he kept his mouth shut. "A shared connection of magic, especially between two highly magical wizards, acts as a powerful grounding force. This bond is in no way sexual. In fact, I believe that early political leaders used this to bind themselves to each other in a peace treaty of sorts."

"What must we do, sir?" Potter asked.

Dumbledore circled around his desk and stood in front of the two boys. He conjured up a piece of chalk, kneeled, and began drawing runes on the carpeted floor. They were complicated drawings with intricate lines and curves. Draco, who was taking Advanced Runes, couldn't make heads or tails of the symbols on the floor, although one looked something like "blood" or "brain". It must have taken hours upon hours of studying from the book for Dumbledore to remember all of these runes.

Dumbledore stood up, rubbing his knees with bony hands. "I'm not as springy as I used to be," he said. He proceeded to draw a small circle on the desk and cram the inside with even more runes. Finally, he pointed his wand at his hand and murmured a spell.

A clean cut appeared on his palm. "Professor!" Harry exclaimed.

"Not to worry, my boy. It's just a little cut." Dumbledore spilled some of his blood onto the circle and on every runes on the floor. All the while, he chanted under his breath in a language that didn't appear to be Latin. The runes glowed bright red for a brief moment, filling the room with light. Then, the light disappeared and left spots in Draco's vision.

A cup appeared in the middle of the circle. It was filled with golden liquid. Draco asked what it was. "That is a simple potion, a mixture of sage, myrrh, cedar, and honey. Now, if you two would please stand in front of the desk, between these two runes."

Draco and Potter took their places. Draco's heart pounded. His hands shook a bit. He pressed them against his side so nobody would notice. Dumbledore began to speak. His voice filled the room in a language that definitely was not English or Latin. It felt much older. Dumbledore asked to see Potter's left hand and Draco's right. "I'm going to make a small cut on your palm. It will be healed immediately after the blood is drawn."

Draco reluctantly extended his shaky hand. Dumbledore pointed his wand at Draco's palm and a moderately superficial cut appeared on the surface. A few droplets of blood appeared. "Please release the drops into the goblet." Draco squeezed his wound and watched as three droplets of blood fell into the small cup. The blood broke through the surface and nothing happened. However, when Potter added his blood, the liquid violently bubble and shook the cup.

Dumbledore muttered a spell and created a small dome around the shaking goblet. The liquid inside erupted into flames before settling into a vivid green color. "You will need to drink it."

Both students made a face. Drink that foul concoction? Was the man out of his mind? Draco almost opened his mouth to protest, but Potter grabbed the cup and gulped a generous amount of the liquid down. Not to be outdone, Draco grabbed the goblet out of Potter's hand and downed the rest. It didn't taste that bad at all. In fact, it was slightly tangy.

Dumbledore told them to press their palms together. They did so, refusing to look at each other. Potter's palm was sweaty and warm. It was larger than Draco's by just a few centimeters.

"Repeat after me," Dumbledore commanded. He began a soft chant. Draco followed as best as he could, clumsily forming the unfamiliar words such as_ atman _and _bandhan _(1), which had phonemes that Draco had never heard before. Potter was having even more trouble with the language than Draco was, which made him feel a bit better.

The runes began glowing again. They grew brighter with each spoken word. Halfway through the chant, Draco was forced to shut his eyes. When the red light began to actually hurt Draco's eyes, Dumbledore's voice boomed with finality. He broke the goblet. The light disappeared, and Draco pried his eyes open. He felt sick.

"Congratulations," Dumbledore said, annoyingly cheerful. Draco couldn't even see him properly. He was still blinded by the light. "On this day, the 10th of September, 1996, at 4:17 AM, we witness the bonding ceremony of Harry James Potter and Draco Lucius Malfoy."

* * *

_(1) I decided to use Sanskrit for the ceremony since it predates Latin, and I thought it was appropriate. _

_**A/N: **So, how was it? Did I portray Draco's actions and emotions at the news of Narcissa's death accurately. It's very difficult to lose somebody, so I tried to keep him as Draco-ish as possible without derailing his character or making it too angsty. The title comes from a Robert Frost poem, by the way. Very emotional, chilling. I recommend reading it._

_Please leave a review, question, or concern. :)_


	4. Desert Places

_**Warning**: Harry/Draco, violence, psychos running amuck._

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. That right belongs to the wonderful and talented J.K. Rowling. Without her, I wouldn't be the avid reader that I am._

**Chapter 4: Desert Place****s**

The hairs on Draco's arms stood on end as he felt a rush of _something_ flow through his body and push against his skin. It was both an invigorating and dizzying sensation. He sat down heavily and rubbed his temple. Potter swayed dangerously beside him before he took a seat as well.

There was no going back now. It was done. Draco had just signed away his life for the sake of vengeance. Draco could feel the disapproving glare of his godfather burning a hole into the back of his head. This all felt more like a terrible, tragic nightmare than a cause for celebration.

Draco finally asked the question that had been nagging him. "What exactly is the bond that you used for us and what will it do?"

Severus shot him a sharp glare. Draco knew it was stupid to go through with a ritual without knowing the exact details. He wasn't a foolish Gryffindor. However, he knew himself well enough to realize that he would undoubtedly back out if he heard too much information.

All he needed to know at the time was that many bonding rituals made the witch or wizard stronger, depending on who their partners were. Considering the fact that both he and Potter were very powerful wizards, their combined magic would be enough to destroy Voldemort and his little demonic army.

He'd avenge his mother's death if it killed him in the process.

"This ritual was cited in a few of the oldest books in Slytherin's collection," Dumbledore began. "As I mentioned before, it is meant to combine two different parties together in a sort of political union through a spiritual bond, though the magical aptitude of each individual union can change even the strongest of rituals. In fact, the stronger the ritual, the more affected it is by the most minute changes in magic."

"Forgive me, Headmaster, but what are you saying?" Severus asked. "Do you mean to say that you did not know what the ritual would do?"

Draco's eyes grew to the size of quaffles. "You tested unknown magic on me?" he asked. What kind of headmaster was this man?

Dumbledore raised his good hand. "I merely mean to say that this bonding ceremony could have some side-effects, nothing major or life-threatening." His tone grew sharp. "I would never put my students in danger."

"So what does the bond do?" Potter asked. "If it's meant to make political alliances, then why don't more people use it?" And here Draco thought Potter had gone over the bonding ritual with Dumbledore before agreeing to it.

Severus scoffed. "Potter, your ignorance continues to astound me. Have you not read up on the subject or did you jump into this situation headfirst without-" at this the dour Potions master glanced at Draco, "-consulting someone? Then again, I am not surprised, for you often do just that."

"I asked to Hermione about it," Potter snapped hotly. "She said that most bonds are now considered illegal, but the books don't explain why. They just say that bonds are unstable and dangerous."

"That would be the Ministry's attempt at meddling," said Severus. At Potter's confused expression, the man continued. "The Ministry uses an outlandish amount of propaganda to sway the general public. It seems glaringly obvious, what with the Daily Prophet's close ties with the Ministry. They attempt to stem the flow of certain information into public hands. Bonding is one of these subjects."

"But why?"

"Because, Potter," Draco says, rolling his eyes, "magical bonds melds magical cores together, which is in direct violation of Merlin's Laws." At Potter's blank expression, Draco rolled his eyes. "It states that any kind of magic that disrupts the flow of magic from a witch or wizard's magical core is, by definition, Dark. Therefore, bonding rituals are considered Dark magic and are now illegal. And the Ministry's afraid that more people will bond themselves together and use their extra power boosts to overthrow the Minister of Magic." As if the general wizarding population was powerful enough. Most people couldn't create a Patronus wisp to save their life.

"But if they're illegal, then why did you even mention them, sir?" Potter inquired, staring at the Headmaster in confusion.

"They are illegal, yes," Dumbledore said, "but there are extenuating circumstances when it comes to you two."

"And nobody really pays attention to the Ministry anyway. At least, nobody with a brain," Draco muttered, staring at his hands. His family certainly hadn't. Not even bootlicking fools such as the Weasleys bother with some of the Ministry's more outlandish ideas. Draco knew for a fact that Arthur Weasley had a penchant for enchanting muggle items, which was ironic, considering his desk job.

Potter still stared at Dumbledore with a stupidly confused expression. "If this bonding thing makes you so powerful, then why don't more people use it. Why doesn't Voldemort use it?"

Draco wanted to smack his head on the desk. It was a good thing Potter was never sorted into Slytherin. He would be dead before nightfall. "Have you not been paying attention," Severus snapped. "Bonds are permanent, irreversible. They also work with a wizard's magic, so most of the couples have to have a compatible enough magical core in order to mix well. Some wedding vows that double as weak bonds between the two spouses. Not even the Ministry can meddle with those. Most people don't even have enough magic to accomplish a ritual of _this_ magnitude. It would be like a Squab trying to cast a Levitating Charm. And bonds like these do not leave any room for infidelity or separation. That alone scares most people away."

"I think that this is enough information for one night, don't you?" Dumbledore declared before anybody else could begin again. "Now, the bond will probably be raw for a while, so the two of you will be excused from your regular classes for the remainder of the week."

"Raw? As in…?" Draco demanded. No way was he spending more time with Potter than was absolutely necessary.

"Unstable. We don't know what the side-effects would be. It would be best if you were not surrounded by other students" Dumbledore said. A beat of silence, and then, "There is one more thing that we should speak of. Mr. Potter had this discussion with me yesterday," Dumbledore said grimy. Draco glanced at Potter, but the Gryffindor steadfastly avoided his eyes.

_Great_, _you just jinxed yourself._

"You see, Mr. Malfoy, there is a problem with your sleeping arrangements now that you and Mr. Potter are bonded," Dumbledore began. Draco had a very bad feeling about this. "Dorm rooms are only for unwed students."

"But we're not married," Potter said slowly.

"In the eyes of the wizarding world, you are."

Draco's stomach dropped, but at the same time, he felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. Slytherin house may act tight knit in public, but past the dungeon walls, the house was ridden with backstabbers and spies. Draco was a bit relieved to be out of some busybody's watchful eye.

"I'm terribly sorry, my boys, but this particular rule was placed by the Founders themselves into the foundation of the school. A bonded couple, whether legally or spiritually, cannot use the dorm rooms. This is why I have decided to move the two of you to one of the rooms near the teachers' quarters."

"What happens if we decide to go back to our dorms?" Draco questioned.

"The wards will forcefully eject you from the premises."

Dumbledore could have given the two boys a separate room, but he wouldn't. Draco knew that the man was trying to force them to get along, but he could only see this ending badly.

Draco swallowed every nasty word that tried to escape. He had done this to himself. There was nobody to blame but him. He could run from this, or he could see this as another step towards his goal. He could throw a fit later on, when he wasn't surrounded by people and didn't have an image to maintain. The last time Draco had had a tantrum in public was nearly twelve years ago, and he had quickly learned never to do that again.

If Potter could manage to control himself, then Draco damn well should be able to as well.

"Professor, I'd like to head to the dorm if you don't mind," Potter mumbled, eyes downcast. The blond Slytherin had never seen Potter like this before. He was always such a hotheaded, stubborn Gryffindor.

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore said, rising. "I dare say that it is time for the two of you to sleep. It's nearly five o' clock!"

The quartet made their way out of Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster led the two boys down a dark corridor, up two flights of stairs, and into another shadowy hallway before finally coming to a wooden door with the portrait of a young African American man sitting beside a grand piano.

The man looked down at the strange crew. "These are the boys, Dumbledore?" the man asked in a surprised voice. His eyebrows shot up. "They barely look old enough to have their apparating license."

"Er… I don't have an apparating license," Potter said.

Cocking his head, the man asked, "And you two are married? I had assumed that young marriages nowadays were frowned upon."

"They have been through an ordeal, Humphrey," Dumbledore said. "Could you please allow us in? The password is _falcons_."

"Very well," the man said, and the wooden door swung open, revealing a dormitory that had Draco wrinkling his nose. It was much larger than his dorm but nowhere near as richly furnished, a situation that Draco would have to fix. He appeared in what seemed to be the sitting room, which had but one ancient sofa and nothing else. There was a dingy kitchen built into the corner of the room with a rickety table in the center. Two chairs were shoved against it.

"This wing of Hogwarts is strictly for married couples," Dumbledore explained. "When it was common for young adults to marry, this wing was quite full, but now there are only two other couples living here." Draco knew that one of these couples was a pair of seventh year Slytherins but he wondered about the other one.

Dumbledore proceeded to show the pair the bedroom. The _single _bedroom only had one bed. Draco opened his mouth, ready to start objecting, but Severus pulled out his wand and cast a spell at the large bed, which promptly split into two smaller ones. He levitated one bed away so that there was at least a five-foot gap between the two beds.

"Thank you, Professor," Draco said in relief. Severus nodded curtly.

"The house-elves will bring your possessions," Dumbledore explained. "Until then, you may return to your dorms to explain the circumstances to your friends if you wish, though I urge you to consider the delicate nature of this situation." At this, Dumbledore's eyes flitted to Draco. The Slytherin stiffened. The older man knew very well that Draco had nobody to divulge this information to.

"It would do well for you and Mr. Potter not to create too much of a disturbance," Severus muttered. Draco's cheeks heated up at the obvious implications behind the man's sentence. Draco wouldn't even dream of touching Potter.

"Headmaster, will you permit me to visit Hogsmeade soon for emergency supplies?" Draco asked as politely as possible while staring at his surroundings.

Dumbledore glanced around him. "A few decades did quite a number on this room. However, I fear that Hogsmeade is unsafe at the moment. Perhaps an owl order would be more appropriate." Draco scowled, but he couldn't deny the old man's logic.

The two left, but not before Professor Snape shot Draco a look that promised a very harsh lecture in the future. Potter and Draco stood stiffly in the living room. Draco didn't even want to imagine the filth covering that grimy sofa. He wondered how he'd be able to go to bed tonight with Potter snoring away beside him- because Potter seemed like the snoring type- and the grimy bed. This entire room looked as if it had never been cleaned before.

The atmosphere was fraught with tension. Draco could still feel the crackling energy between him and Potter. Where should he go from here? He could shout, make offensive comments, and ignite Potter's volatile temper, but that would get them nowhere. Besides, Draco remembered the details of yesterday morning when Potter saved his life. It made the situation all the more awkward.

Draco finally folded his arms and said, "The media will not get a word of this. Do you understand, Potter?" Because heaven knows that Potter cannot keep anything to himself for long.

The brunette huffed. "It's not like I'd willingly tell anybody that I'm married to a Malfoy."

Draco scowled. "You should count yourself lucky. I have had dozens of marriage proposals from pureblood families, and I'm stuck with you."

Potter furrowed his brow like he was trying to figure something out, but it was probably too complicated for him to fathom. "But… but if you're not gay, then why did you even agree to this?"

"What? Gay?" Now it was Draco's turn to appear confused.

"Homosexual," Potter said. "You're not, are you?"

Draco still didn't understand. "It doesn't matter. Why would you even ask such a ridiculous question?"

"What do you mean, 'It doesn't matter'? Of course it matters. We're sixteen and married!"

"Potter, we live in world where witches and wizards could breed with centaurs or, Merlin forbid, giants. Sexual orientation does not play a large role in many relationships." Draco wrinkled his nose. "While I would have married a woman, it would have been to produce an heir. Besides, a wizard is a wizard- or, in this case, a weird magical creature. At least you're not a _troll_. Now, if you're though asking inane questions, I'm going to bed."

Draco left Potter standing in the sitting room. The blonde stopped in front of his bed. The house elves must have come and put on new, dust-free sheets. Dumbledore's optimism paid off sometimes. Draco crumbled onto his bed. The sheets were uncomfortable and itchy, the bed was hard, and his pillow felt more like a brick.

A few tears slipped through his eyelids, no matter how much he struggled to keep them at bay. This was, without a doubt, the worst day of his life.

* * *

The following week was a bloody nightmare. The bond hadn't acted up, so the two spent nearly all of their time far away from each other. Draco kept mostly to Severus's quarters. The man had chewed him out the moment he entered the office, but he'd rather go through with that than to stay cooped up in his room. Draco also refused to acknowledge Potter's existence when they were in the bedroom together. Granger and the Weasel were stuck to Potter's side like a nasty tumor. The pair sent scathing glares in his direction every time they crossed paths, which wasn't often, thank Morgana.

The general student population was understandably floored by the daimera attack and the subsequent death of a Hufflepuff sixth year. The family had taken her body back to their home.

Many parents wanted to pull their children from Hogwarts, insisting that the school was simply too unsafe for their kids- he could hear their incessant chatter on his way to the kitchen. Draco couldn't help but sneer at their backwards assumptions. If only they knew what Voldemort was planning. This was probably the safest place in Britain at the moment.

The most magically inclined faculty members and a few hired Warders had added extra wards around the school. Draco had even seen Sprout planting some strange flora around the Hogwarts parameter one night, along with signs warning students of their dangers.

Operation: Lay Low, unfortunately, came to an end when Dumbledore called Draco into his office. Upon entering, Draco jerked to a halt when he noticed the back of Potter's messy head. Damn.

"We require your assistance with the construction of a particularly tricky ward," Dumbledore said once Draco was seated. Potter briefly glanced at him.

Draco blinked. "But I know nothing about warding."

"It is fairly straightforward," Dumbledore said. "We require powerful casters as a focal point. The spell is too powerful to let anybody else be in the center of the circle. Normally, I take that position, but I'm hoping that your magic will have an adverse effect on any daimera that try to break through the wards." And of course Draco couldn't refuse.

That's how Draco found himself standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, holding Potter's hand, and surrounded by most of the faculty of Hogwarts. They formed a tight circle around the pair, hands clasped. Beneath their feet were individual runes for each person. It had taken hours merely creating them. Dumbledore had lied though his impressively long beard when he said that the entire process would be quick and simple. Draco and Potter had to memorize the entire incantation. They were pivotal to the spell.

Much as Draco was loathed to touch Potter let alone hold his hand, he couldn't help but bask in the magic that danced around the pair, warming Draco to the core. The two hadn't touched since the daimera attack, and Draco had forgotten just how energetic his magic grew.

The incantation itself wasn't particularly difficult. It basically stated that the circle was formed for the intent of protecting a location. They called to the magic inside their bodies and beseeched the wild magic surrounding them to come to their aid. Draco had never been part of a circle before, so he hadn't expected what happened next. Draco heard it before it slammed through his body; it was a force like no other, raw energy- magic, the sentient being that compelled all magic-users. Draco would have fallen to his knees had Potter not held him up.

The wild magic weaved around the witches and wizards in the circle, testing each one before taking up residence in Draco's body. He felt almost omnipotent with the amount of magic coursing through him. Biting his lip, Draco screwed his eyes shut and forced himself to guide the magic through his chanting and his thoughts. His hands clutched onto Potter's for dear life. _Protect us_, he implored it. _Keep us safe. Keep those things away from us. _

Draco's eyes flew open. His gaze locked onto Potter's._ Protect us._ The magic understood. It rushed out of his body in a glee, knocking over the other casters in the process. It scattered around the grounds and formed a very visible barrier before dissolving into thin air.

Lethargy hit Draco and sent him staggering back, breaking the circle. He crumbled to the floor, gasping for much needed air. Glancing up, Draco noticed that most of the casters were still in the ground. McGonagall tried to help Dumbledore up, but the pair ended up lying in a heap. One of the Warders was passed out in the grass. Severus sat with his head between his knees, and Potter was bend over, clutching his midsection.

For a brief moment, while the magic had been coursing through his body, Draco felt like the king of the world. In that moment, he didn't just want to kill Voldemort. Draco wanted to annihilate him.

* * *

Draco awoke in the middle of the night after the warding circle, having no recollection of falling asleep. Heart-wrenching sobs echoed around the quiet room. At first, he thought it was Potter that was blubbering like a baby until he felt the burning in his lungs, choking gasps that made him want to throw up. Warm tears poured out of the corner of his eyes, collecting in his hair as he stared into the blackness.

Oh god! Oh god it hurt so much- like somebody had been torn out of his chest, like there was a darkness gnawing at his nerves; he wanted to claw his own skin off, burn the pieces, rip his heart out so he wouldn't have to feel this pain, this loneliness. She never deserved to die; she had done nothing wrong- nothing!- but Fate was cruel, heartless; Draco should have been killed instead; he was the one who disobeyed Voldemort's orders; he, who had been such a cocky child, who used to dream about the moment that he would come face-to-face with the Dark Lord, the man his father had worshipped like a god.

A warm hand settled on his upper arm. "Malfoy?" Potter's gentle voice pulled him out of his grief, if only a bit. Draco shoved the hand away, though. He didn't want Potter to see him like this- a weakling, unable to even control his own emotions.

Draco breathed deeply, roughly swiping at his eyes and cheeks. "C-come to take pictures, Potter?" he gasped, attempting to get a hold of himself. How embarrassing. "Going to share the tale with your Gryffindork friends?"

That familiar scowl grew on Potter's face and just when Draco felt that everything was going back to the way it was, Potter perched himself on the edge of Draco's bed. He grasped Draco's shoulder. "Don't be an arse," Potter said. "It may be difficult for you to grasp, Malfoy, but I'm not a monster." Unable to comprehend where the Gryffindor was going with this, Draco just stared at him. Potter gazed back. Green met grey.

Magic crackled between them.

"I understand," he whispered.

Draco glared. "You understand nothing."

Draco grew uncomfortable under Potter's unwavering stare. "I know that feeling. It's heartbreak, depression, guilt… hate. Was it your mother?" How did he know? Draco's eyes must have revealed his question because Potter said, "I lost my godfather, too. I felt like I was dying inside."

The Slytherin didn't know what to say. Here the two archrivals-turned-spouses sat, speaking to each other without insults flying every which way. What if Potter was just pulling his leg, convincing Draco to let his guard down so that he could just stab Draco in the back later on? Why was he even trying to comfort him? There was no lost love between the pair, and Draco wasn't under the silly misconception that Potter harbored some tender feelings for him that were only brought to light because of their ridiculous marriage.

"Look, Malfoy," Potter said after a long silence, "I won't spend the rest of my life miserable, and if we keep on doing this to each other, we'll both end up unhappy. I know I've been a jerk to you, but you can't deny that you're been just as big of a jerk to me." Potter's eyes were pleading, begging Draco to understand the gravity of their situation. Draco almost laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of their position. The tables were reversed.

Draco's earliest memory was actually a dream. When he was about three, Draco dreamt about a young man with wild black hair and dark green eyes. His forehead was free of blemishes, but Draco knew that this wouldn't be the case for long. The green-eyed stranger was cheerfully dancing with a blond man. The man laughed at something Green Eyes said. They were obviously much closer than best friends. As he grew older, the dreams kept coming and the cast and characters in the dream changed- a beautiful sorceress and a dark-skinned man, a pair of knights, a courtesan and a stable boy- but Draco knew that they were merely different versions of the same couple.

When Draco first met Harry at Madam Malkin's, Draco knew that the two of them would be just as close as the strangers in his dream. So filled with child-like innocence was he that Draco believed they were destined to become best friends, that they _were_ the couple. But then it all went horribly wrong. Something changed. A pivotal moment never occurred. Draco missed his chance.

"… and he's my best friend, you know?" No, Draco had no idea. He zoned back into Potter's rant. "What I'm trying to say is, I think we should try and give this a chance. If we're going to be spending the rest of our lives together, we should at least make this work." The Gryffindor's expression was open and honest, and Draco felt a spark of rage erupt in his chest.

So now Potter wanted his friendship? After everything that they had been through, Potter wanted to "make this work"? He didn't seem to care at all when he had crushed Draco's feelings on the Hogwart's Express. Draco didn't want Potter's pity. The sensible side of his brain was ranting and raving at him to take this chance. It could be his last one. Potter may never offer this again.

But the other part of him, the younger part that had been so hurt on the train, didn't want to be Potter's friend anymore. Potter had the Weasel and the Muggle-born chit, and Draco didn't need any friends. He had managed just fine without any of that trivial stuff; his Uncle Severus was as close to a friend as he wanted or needed.

Except Draco was no longer a child, nor could he view the world through a child's eyes. Logically, he knew that Potter's proposal made sense. They needed to get along because they were now in a war with both Voldemort and an entire army of ancient Dementor monsters from a nightmarish realm.

Draco's life had become a soap opera almost overnight. All they needed now was an evil Draco clone an amnesiac Potter and they'd be on a flying carpet headed for stardom.

Draco took a deep breath and finally made the most important decision of his life.

"Okay."

* * *

_**A/N:** Finally! For a second, even I was wondering if Draco would stomp off and sulk in some dark corner. _

_Comments, questions, and concerns are much appreciated! I know the entire bonding thing is a bit confusing? Maybe?_


	5. Small Talk

_**Warning**: Mentions of violence_

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. That right belongs to the wonderful and talented J.K. Rowling. Without her, I wouldn't be the avid reader that I am._

**Chapter Five: Small Talk**

Draco sat in an isolated section of the library, where students rarely ventured and where the books had the most dust. He'd already sneezed five times in the last hour.

"… _little is known about this ancient humanoid species. Any text about adhegan has been destroyed over time. It is only through inference and supposition that scholars can even vaguely discuss the now extinct creatures…"_

With an irritated huff, Draco slammed the book shut. He shoved it into a slowly growing pile of useless paper. Draco rubbed his eyes. He'd been here since the crack of dawn, searching for information. Every book he came across pretty much fell into one of three categories: adhegan never existed (obviously wasn't true), they went extinct centuries ago (partially true), or they still exist and have gone into hiding (most likely). But none of the books explained why or how or even when any of this came about.

He was having difficulty concentrating, as well. After the brief discussion last night, Draco hadn't slept a wink. He kept replaying every moment. He had made the right decision; there was no doubt about that. But it still felt empty.

"_If we're going to be spending the rest of our lives together, we should at least make this work."_

That could mean a number of things. Potter could simply be asking for tolerance and nothing else. They could be like roommates who had no choice but to sleep under the same roof. Since the bond seemed to demand nothing of them, that could be easy. Or Potter could be asking for something more like friendship. That would be much more difficult. It would mean facing their turbulent past and making amends. Last night was merely a baby step.

Another point of concern was the bond. It was oddly quiet on that front. Dumbledore made it seem like the bond was an all-consuming force that compelled them to get along, but so far, it remained distant, as if a thick barrier existed between Draco and Potter. If he concentrated, Draco could sometimes catch a glimpse of Potter's emotions, just a taste of whatever he felt at the moment. He didn't dare dig deeper.

They could go the entire day without interacting in any way. He'd heard of more powerful bonds with marriage ceremonies. Perhaps Dumbledore hadn't been sugarcoating it after all. The bond could purely be for political unions, which were nearly always characterized by a cool detachment between the espoused couple.

And then Draco realized that, while this may be appropriate and completely understandable, he didn't want that for himself. Narcissa and Lucius's marriage, which had started out as a arrangement between two powerful houses, had grown and evolved into something more. Growing up, Draco would always catch sight of tender moments between the pair, moments that they wouldn't dare express in public. It may not have started that way, but they grew to love each other.

Draco wasn't quixotic enough to believe that Potter and his relationship would ever grow to that level, and he didn't particularly want it to. Just thinking about any sort of romantic relationship with Potter was like trying to imagine an illicit love affair between the Whomping Willow and Giant Squid.

No, Draco merely hoped that they could become confidants, but even that would be an uphill battle. Potter could be a stubborn, self-righteous git. He saw the world in black and white, as did his followers. And Draco was a slimy Slytherin. His opinions didn't matter. He always had an ulterior motive. It became a chore just to be taken seriously.

How could Draco battle a long-standing stigma?

"I doubt you'll find anything in here," a familiar female voice said. Draco glanced up and reflexively scowled. Granger stood across from him, her arms full of books. "I've been looking for days."

"What do you want, Granger?" Draco said shortly. He was on guard, expecting the Weasel to be around. The two seemed joined at the hip, despite their constant bickering.

She shrugged. "I just want to have an academic discussion with you. May I sit?"

Draco hesitated. Everything about her screamed Mudblood, from her bushy head of brown hair right down to her muggle-made shoes. He can think of a million nasty things to say to her, things that would no doubt send the know-it-all weeping back to the Weasel, but then Potter would murder him in his sleep, truce or no truce.

As she stood there, waiting for Draco to speak, a solution came to him. Granger was a Muggle-born, but she was also Potter's best friend. He could use her support, and she seemed more than willing enough.

So, even though everything inside him- his heritage, all that he's been taught- scorned her very existence, Draco said, "You may." He grabbed another book. A puff of dust flew off the cover, and Draco sneezed.

"Bless you," Granger said, placing her books beside her. "Harry said you'd be here."

Draco raised a brow. "And just how does Potter know that?"

"A feeling," she replied. Draco blinked. Another side effect of the bond, but one that Draco himself didn't experience. "I brought these books. Since the library doesn't seem to have anything," Draco almost smirked at her affronted tone, "I asked Professor Dumbledore for some of Slytherin's works."

Draco started, his gaze falling onto the worn books in front of Granger. He'd been meaning to ask the Headmaster for those. Granger took the first book and began reading. Draco, after a moment, took the second one in the stack.

Slytherin's book held little information about adhegan, but it did speak extensively about daimera. Draco already knew most of the information, thanks to Dumbledore, but he did find one tidbit fascinating. All daimera followed a monarch, their Lord. The lord decided on everything from war to the mating season and was considered to be the most powerful of the daimera. Lordship could only be passed through inheritance within the bloodline.

The sun was setting, throwing the room into shades of red and orage, when he finally put down the book. He'd missed breakfast and lunch, and his stomach finally expressed its displeasure though a loud gurgle. A tiny headache had begun building early that evening, and it grew worse with each passing moment.

Draco pushed the book in her direction and stood without a word. "You can borrow this one if you'd like to," Granger said, sliding the book towards him.

Draco scowled at her. "What do you want, Granger?" There was too much bad history between them for her to suddenly act so amicable. She had to have something up her sleeve, some sort of motive.

"What?" she said, brows furrowed.

"There has to be a reason you're being nice. Why are you even speaking to me?" He had flashback of third year, when Granger decked him and left a nasty bruise on his cheek. He could still feel the sting and hear the Weasel's squeaky jeering.

She stood, a frown spreading across her face. "Have you considered that I might just want to get to know my best friend's new husband?"

Draco regarded her carefully. She didn't seem to be hiding anything, but he couldn't be completely sure. "I find that hard to believe. Just because Potter and I are stuck together, that doesn't mean you need to involve yourself." _Especially when you're unwanted._

Granger pressed her lips together and glanced at the books across the table. "Harry's an important part of my life. If he says you've changed, then I trust his judgment. I know that we started off on the wrong foot. I'll admit that I wasn't the most agreeable person to be around during our first year, which probably just confirmed your preconceptions of me."

He didn't know what to say, so he merely peered at her, searching for any sign of deception. If this was a prank, Draco couldn't figure out what it would accomplish. Truthfully, he had nothing personal against her, only against what she represented.

"I don't understand. That's what bothers me the most," she finally murmured. Draco could have delivered a sharp retort, but he was curious. Know-it-all Granger didn't know something. Imagine that. "I don't understand why you hate me for just existing. I don't understand your hatred for Muggle-borns."

There were a lot of things that Draco expected her to say, and this was not it Draco could simply walk away, and this would be the end of it. Granger would probably never try to speak with him again. If he stayed and explained, there was a chance that Draco might actually form an acquaintance with her, with a Mudblood. _Muggle-born_, he corrected himself.

Draco sat down. Granger followed suit, her expression honest and curious.

"I don't… hate you, Granger," he began reluctantly. His stomach rolled with barely concealed contempt. How does one even begin to explain such a complex and personal idea objectively? "But I do hate the threat that your kind pose to our cultural identity."

"That's just it! I don't know what you mean by threat," she said.

He didn't expect her to know. She, like a majority of the school, didn't seem to have a pervading cultural identity to cherish. "Many of the older wizarding families still remember the times of the Muggle witch-hunts. There truly are no words to describe those horrific events. For centuries, it was a mass genocide born of paranoia and hatred. They hanged and burned husbands and wives and cheered as they saw the life leave their eyes; they dragged children out of their beds and stoned them without mercy; they tore apart entire wizarding villages and destroyed ancient bloodlines. And for what? They wanted to _protect the innocent_," Draco spat with the deepest of form of contempt.

"Then they give us _your _kind. And the Muggle-borns come to us and taint our customs and beliefs with their backward logic. They scorn our rituals, call us evil, and then they dare act righteous and just and demand fair treatment. What have any of you done to earn my respect? You come here, Granger, and you change everything without a care in the world for what we think, and you don't bother to _learn_. You don't bother to understand us. We've been here longer than you have. This is our history; you are the interlopers."

After that rather heated speech, Draco half-expected Granger to slap him, but she just sat there are took it. Draco took a deep breath, centering himself. He'd never been asked such a question by a Muggle-born before, and years of pent-up anger came washing out of him.

"So teach me," Granger said, causing Draco to recoil in sheer surprise. "How do you expect me to learn anything if you won't teach me?"

Draco scoffed. "Only the willing learn anything."

"And I'm willing to learn." She spoke with certainty, and Draco saw her in a new light.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Pansy asked the moment he sat down for dinner. Draco groaned. "I haven't seen you in class at all and you haven't been sleeping in the Slytherin dormitories."

"Dumbledore's moved to be a different room," he said, just as he'd rehearsed. "I think he's onto me."

Pansy pursed her lips. "Well, where have you been all week?"

"I haven't been feeling well."

She narrowed her eyes. "I went to the infirmary."

"I've been in my room."

The two stared at each other. Draco kept his mental shields up and his expression blank.

Pansy's countenance softened. "My condolences on your mother's passing," she said. Draco didn't respond.

They ate in silence. While Draco was hungry, his headache was beginning to make him nauseous. He could tell Pansy was dying to speak with him, but he wasn't in the mood for conversation.

Draco glanced across Great Hall, searching for a head of messy black hair, but none of the Golden Trio was at the Gryffindor table. Granger had said she would probably be staying in the library for the rest of the evening, researching Pureblood customs. Somehow, she made him promise to have a study session with her tomorrow afternoon. He had to give it to her- Granger was nothing if not thorough.

After dessert was served, Pansy asked, "Would you like to take a walk on the grounds with me? The moon is shining brightly tonight."

That was their code for, "I need to speak with you in private." Draco couldn't even pinpoint exactly when they created such a stupid method of communication.

"Actually, Pansy, I have to visit Professor Snape," Draco said, standing up. He turned away, but not before he saw the hurt flash in her eyes.

* * *

Draco was going back to his room after another Wolfsbane brewing session with Severus. The stinky fumes clung to his clothes and hair and after a quick sniff of his shirt, Draco wanted nothing more than a bath. He was also exhausted and barely standing on his feet, but he had helped Severus clean up the Potions lab for tomorrow's class. It was dangerous to use spells in an area recently used to brew a potion. There was still residual magic from the potion floating around in the air, so they had to do most of the cleaning by hand.

He was halfway up the flight of stairs leading to his quarters when an immense wave of agony suddenly made him double over. It came in waves through the bond, smashing through the barrier and causing his legs to buckle. He might have screamed, or it could have been Potter. It hurt worst than than when Voldemort burned the Dark Mark onto his arm, like his entire body was dipped in boiling oil.

Draco's vision went black.

* * *

He first became aware of rough cotton characteristic of the hospital wing. His body ached fiercely, especially near the base of his skull. The act of turning his head sent a wave of pain shooting down his spine.

Then, he became aware of a warm body pressed against his back.

Prying his eyes open, Draco endured the pain and peaked over his shoulder. Potter's face was mere centimeters away from his. Draco yelped and attempted scoot away only to be stopped by a stern voice. "Mr. Malfoy, please remain still. Your body is still healing from your fall."

Draco turning his gaze to Madam Pomfrey, but she wasn't alone. A man stood regally beside her. He appeared old, almost twice as old as Dumbledore, if that was even possible. He leaned against a solid black cane, but his posture remained stiff and upright. Curly gray hair fell in front of a vaguely familiar face lined with wrinkles.

Before he could wonder where he'd seen the man before, Dumbledore swept into the room, along with Severus. Only years of experience with the man allowed Draco to notice that Severus was quite worried.

Behind him, Potter stirred. A breathy hiss made Draco's stomach flip uncomfortably. "Malfoy?" Potter mumbled before releasing a startled gasp. There was much arm flailing. A flash of panic bounced around Draco's mind.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Mr. Potter, please stop floundering about. You're in even worse condition than Mr. Malfoy."

Despite the warning, Potter took great pains to scoot away from him. Distress flared across the back of Draco's mind, but it definitely wasn't his own. "Why are we in the same bed?" Potter asked, his voice shaking with the strain it took for him to move. Draco struggled into a sitting position, gritting his teeth against the constant ache.

"It accelerated your healing," said Dumbledore, taking a seat beside him. He conjured another chair and waved the other man forward. "Please, Nicholas, have a seat."

The older man accepted, but he scowled, deepening the creases on his face. "Albus, you should have called as soon as you found out about them."

"Had I known you were still amongst the living, I would have fire-called you in an instant," Dumbledore said congenially.

The man continued to frown. "They haven't been caring for the bond and it finally lashed out, is that it?" His piercing gaze bore into Draco and he wondered if the man was trying to pry into mind, but he didn't feel the telltale signs of Legilimency. Nevertheless, Draco shrunk away from the sheer power radiating off the strange man.

Dumbledore sighed. "No, but I wish it were that simple. It appears as if Voldemort is calling back each piece of his soul."

The man turned to Dumbledore in shock. "Horcruxes, Albus? The boy was a Horcrux?" Severus blanched, eyes resting on Potter like he'd seen a ghost.

"It seems so," said Dumbledore gravely.

Their entire conversation went right over Draco's head. "What's a Horcrux?" Potter asked, irritated and confused. Draco started. He could _feel_ exactly what Potter thought of the conversation like a niggling in the back of his mind, the anxiety and puzzlement roiling around in his head.

"Ah, where are my manners?" Dumbledore said, eyes brightening. He gestured towards the older man. "I would like you two to meet an old and dear friend of mine, Nicholas Flamel."

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Finally, Flamel makes an appearance! _

_Comments and concerns are appreciated. :)_


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